


Stiles Stilinski, Magical PI

by suzvoy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, BAMF Stiles, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Derek is a Good Boyfriend, Evil Kate, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Magical Creatures, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Private Investigator Stiles Stilinski, SO MUCH FLUFF, Scott is a Good Friend, no hunters, stiles has anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 03:17:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11912088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzvoy/pseuds/suzvoy
Summary: Stiles is a Private Investigator, only not really. He's also magical, but only close up. One thing he's really good at is lusting over people from afar, which is why it's a problem when Laura Hale hires him to help her brother.





	Stiles Stilinski, Magical PI

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in a much kinder, gentler Beacon Hills. Hunters don't exist. There are no big bads, no demon wolves, mass-murdering darachs or dread doctors. Derek hasn't been traumatised for 90% of his life! \o/ There is more magic and there are more magical creatures.
> 
> I have not written in forever, I'm astounded I even wrote this at all and it is utterly self-indulgent. Fluff, so much fluff! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! :D
> 
> Thank you very, very much for the cheerleading on tumblr, and particular thanks to the epic nel/pertifity for always making my work better <3
> 
> Feedback would be utterly fantastic.
> 
> **Warnings at the end.**

Stiles was the master planner. He was the master of plans. If anyone else got stuck in a situation? He knew exactly what to do. He figured it came from being a cop kid, using that logic and reasoning he inherited from his dad. It worked for his own life, too, with a few notable exceptions. There weren't many problems or situations he couldn't figure his way out of – sometimes in an unorthodox way, admittedly – usually because he always tried to plan for everything.

The Plan Man. The Planmeister.

“You sure are, buddy,” Scott agreed loyally as they stumbled home from the bar, celebrating Stiles' rise to employed adulthood.

As far back as Stiles could remember, he'd wanted to be a cop. This was, of course, entirely because his dad worked in law enforcement and was the coolest guy ever.

“I know, man,” Scott concurred, who was listing to one side himself thanks to the wolfsbane brew Stiles had smuggled in. “Your dad is like – _so_ cool.”

Stiles researched the kind of grades he'd need and the kind of courses he'd need to take and got it all planned out years in advance. Even as he grew up and the rose-tinted glasses came off, he still wanted to help people.

“Dude, you are the _best_.”

So he stuck with his plan, did everything he needed to do and it was only when he was part way through his criminal justice course at college that the penny finally dropped. Or, more like he admitted there was a penny there to begin with.

He tried ignoring the problem until it went away but, of course, it didn't go anywhere. Stiles was not a...typical law enforcement candidate.

Scott barely managed to avoid bumping into a wall. “Maybe there's a secret magic divishun...difision...group in the government? Like The X-Files! We can't be the only magical town, like, _ever_ , right?”

Stiles sure as shit didn't come from a typical town.

One spring break he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. He'd been chopping tomatoes for dinner and Dad had been solving the Saturday crossword at the kitchen table. Stiles had cleared his throat, asking if he could speak to him for a minute, causing Dad to put his pen down and look at Stiles with a worried wrinkle on his forehead.

Stiles had swallowed nervously. “You look like you expect me to confess to murder or something.”

“You realise that you almost never ask if you can talk to me, meaning that you asking indicates that it's probably not good news.” Dad's face held no judgement, though. Stiles had still stumbled through his explanation anyway.

“...and it's not like I'm giving up college or even my major, it's important to have that foundation, you know? But I can't be a cop and do what I really want to do. Help people the way I know _I_ can help them.”

Dad had nodded like he understood. Maybe he did. God, Stiles hoped he did. “You mean help people like you. Like Scott.”

Scott had been bitten by a werewolf when he was fifteen. It was fair to say it took him a while to adjust.

“True, bro. True,” Scott admitted.

While it had ultimately been a good thing – asthma was no longer trying to kill him whenever he ran anywhere – they'd only got through it by helping each other. That sense of purpose had been more fulfilling than anything else in Stiles' life. “Not just us, non-magicals too,” Stiles had told his dad, then set about waggling his fingers. “I'd just mostly be using my...skills to fix situations that others can't. Or won't.” Deaton had been frustrating as all hell, what with refusing to get involved when Stiles wanted him to and his judgey faces at Stiles' lack of finesse when using magic. He often said Stiles lacked focus, which, hello, Stiles had ADD. Sometimes he was unfocused, sometimes he was super focused. Stiles just thought of himself as adaptable and using whatever worked. He had to get more hands-on than some magic users, but if it got the job done it didn't matter.

“So...” Stiles had said anxiously, eventually, “what do you think?”

Dad hadn't even hesitated, standing and clapping Stiles on the shoulder, causing a grin to bloom on both their faces. “I think I'm proud as hell – and I know your mom would be.”

Mom had been magical as well - she'd had an affinity for plants. They'd been all over the house when he was growing up and he'd watched, countless times in amazement, as she'd infused her magic into the plants, strengthening her connection to them so if she ever needed to use them they'd be all the more powerful. One of his favourite memories was the first time she'd shown Stiles how to do it himself. She'd been weak, by then, but had insisted anyway. There were days, towards the end, where he'd sneak some of them into her room at the hospice just to see her smile. Sometimes she'd forget his name, but she never forgot any of the plants.

“Shit, man,” Scott pulled him in closer, “you want a hug?”

Stiles was just busy trying to keep upright.

“You know I have to ask, though,” Dad had continued. “Is this going to be entirely...legal?”

Stiles had made a face. “Ix-nay on the egal-lay? I mean,” he scratched his neck, “you know as well as I do that, sometimes, some of the ways people need help can be...unconventional. Especially magical people,” he'd waggled his fingers again. “Another reason I can't become a cop,” he said with a little too much enthusiasm. “Even I can't deal with the double standard of becoming a cop and then having to break the law.”

“Kid,” Dad had said wryly, shaking his head fondly, “just don't tell me about any law-breaking as it's happening.”

Stiles figured that was the best he was going to get. “Deal.”

Scott snorted loudly. Stiles would've been offended, but it wasn't anything he didn't already know himself.

After a lot of hard work Stilinski Investigations opened a few years later – as in, _today_ – which actually meant that Stiles moved into his 'office space' because he couldn't afford an apartment and an office yet. It was tiny and dingy but it was his.

“Eh, it's really not that bad,” Scott said, “although I think there may be damp in that one corner?” He wrinkled his nose up miserably. “Damp smells disgusting.”

As Stiles soon discovered, that wasn't the only thing that was disgusting when he slipped over in someone else's' puke. It had the added effect of also bringing his brain fully back to the present.

“Oh my God, that is so gross,” Stiles announced, now desperately trying not to barf himself.

“I'll call Kira,” Scott finally gave in, fumbling for his phone. He had a – completely understandable – thing where he didn't like Kira seeing him come home drunk. It rarely happened anyway, but Scott's dad had been enough of a dick for the anxiety to run deep.

“Tell her she can have my Iron Man gauntlets,” Stiles offered generously as Scott brought the phone up to his ear.

Kira was Kira, so there was never any doubt that she was going to pick them up. Scott apologised adorably and profusely while Stiles dozed off in the back seat.

*

Scott, because he was awesome, arrived at the office the next day to help Stiles unpack. Isaac, because he was an a-hole and had wanted to bone Scott since they were seventeen, was also there.

Stiles mentally revised his impression of Scott's awesomeness when it quickly became apparent that Scott wasn't hungover at all while Stiles felt like his brain was trying to kill him by climbing out of his skull. Damn werewolf genetics.

“I got you something,” Scott grinned, holding out the paper bag he'd brought with him.

Forgiving Scott for all imagined sins, Stiles snatched the bag from his hand. Curious, he peered inside, grinning himself as he pulled out the pineapple. “Thanks, dude.” He placed it pride of place, on the corner of his ratty little desk, then went in for a Scott hug.

Scott hugs were always awesome, even though it ended when Scott said, "You know this isn't gonna be like Psych, right? You're not actually psychic."

"Neither was Shawn Spencer,” Stiles pointed out, then faked a wounded expression. “And excuse you, who knew what an evil dick Theo was? Like, immediately?" Maybe he couldn't actually be psychic, but he'd long since learned to trust his instincts.

Isaac, inevitably, ruined the moment. “You could say it takes one to know one..."

Squinting at him, Stiles then huffed out a breath. "Rude. But...not entirely inaccurate.” Stiles knew he wasn't always the nicest person, especially when someone rubbed him the wrong way. Case in point... “Knitted any new scarves lately?"

Fortunately it hadn't taken very long at all to build up a decent customer base although the learning curve hadn't been for the faint of heart. If there was anything he'd learned in his first few months as a PI, it was never trust a pixie.

Even Scott had agreed never to bring that one up.

There was also the time he'd helped a Kelpie give birth. The mom could tell that something had gone wrong but couldn't exactly go to the local ER. Deaton had been about as much help as a really annoying splinter, the kind that wouldn't come out and just festered beneath the skin. The experience of helping Athdara give birth had been traumatising to say the least – there'd been a lot of screaming and bodily fluids, mostly from Stiles. They'd all survived, thankfully, and Stiles had stumbled home completely soaked through, covered in beige gunk that he _never wanted identified_ and with enough nightmare fodder for months. Athdara still sent pictures of Leathan every few weeks – his little hooves were getting so _big_.

He'd learned, though, and undoubtedly improved. It was the most challenging thing he'd ever done but, as he'd expected, also the most rewarding. The only blip he'd really had since those first couple of years was last November when Dad – purely down to bad timing or plain bad luck – had caught Stiles red-handed in the middle of committing Grand Theft Auto.

Parrish had been there too and, to Stiles' amazement, Dad had distracted him by yelling about a purse snatcher running in the other direction. Parrish had immediately taken off after the non-existent assailant and before he came back Dad had been urgently trying to tell Stiles that he'd cover for him and if he needed money that badly he could just ask, while Stiles was trying to tell Dad that the car had been cursed to give anyone who drove it a really bad case of constipation.

They'd been talking over each other the entire time, so it took them both a while to realise what'd been said.

“Constipation, really?” Dad asked eventually.

“It's not like I'm the one who cursed it!” Stiles hissed. “And, okay, so maybe it's not the deadliest curse ever but it's still something that's being forced on people unwillingly and needs to be dealt with.”

Dad was apparently still having problems with the concept. “So you are actually telling me,” he began, “that this car gives people constipation.”

“I am.”

“And you were about to get in it?”

Holding up his bag of protective herbs, Stiles waved it around proudly. “I came prepared. I am, after all, my father's son.”

“Lord help us both,” Dad sighed, just as Parrish came running up to them.

“Sorry, Sheriff,” he panted, bending over slightly to catch his breath. “I lost him. He must've been fast, maybe another supernatural?” After a few more ragged breaths, he evidently realised Stiles was there. “Oh hey, Stiles.”

“Hey, Jordan,” Stiles greeted in return. Dad and Stiles had an entire conversation using only their eyes, Dad making it clear he wasn't about to leave and knowingly let his son steal a car. “Fine!” Stiles yelled, which confused the hell out of Parrish. “I hope you can live with yourself,” he muttered at Dad, but when he crept back hours later to deal with it, the car had already been towed and destroyed by the police as it technically didn't have an owner anymore.

A few years later he had a lot of repeat business, especially from the supernatural community. Technically he wasn't always 'investigating'; a lot of it was problem-solving. Most of the stuff he dealt with would've been an emissary's job, but emissaries hadn't existed as more than a concept for at least a hundred years. Not only was he helping people, he'd also found an awesome gap in the local job market. Go Stiles! The occasional actual PI work was handy, too, as good a cover as any to hide what his job really was from outsiders.

Most importantly of all, Isaac had moved to France when Scott and Kira got married. This, of course, greatly impacted Stiles' ability to get away with using scarf-related puns at every opportunity, but he figured not having to see Isaac's face every day was more than a fair trade-off.

*

This particular Tuesday morning, Stiles sipped at his frankly delightful coffee as he returned to his office-slash-home, knowing he had a 10am meeting. Most of his customers booked appointments, either over the phone or if they bumped into him somewhere. Though Stiles had managed to trade up to a better office-slash-home, he still didn't make anywhere near enough money to invest in two pieces of real estate.

He was typing up his notes from a typical stake-out the night before – Stiles did everything from investigate cheating spouses to asking the local coven if they really needed to kill _all_ the ground squirrels in California – when the door opened.

Stiles had not been a natural at customer service. However, he was an expert at bullshitting and once he'd realised that's all customer service was, he handled it like a pro. “Hi there,” he greeted, standing and offering his hand, “Laura Hale, right?” They knew each other vaguely, which described his relationship with most of the Hale family, Talia aside.

“Right,” Laura agreed, shaking his hand before sitting in the chair he gestured towards. “I appreciate you seeing me so quickly.”

He brushed it off with a smile. “It's my job. So,” Stiles clasped his hands together on the desk, “what do you need?”

She didn't waste any time. “I know you've worked for Mom a few times. She's always appreciated your discretion so when I realised this...situation...needed dealing with, you were my first thought.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Well, first of all, thank you very much. I'm flattered,” he joked, though he kind of meant it seriously. “Secondly, I take my customers privacy very seriously. If there's information or...anything about your life that you don't want made public, it certainly won't come from me.” He was thinking specifically of the hairy situation that tended to run in the Hale family.

“Thanks,” Laura nodded, seeming reassured, “but it's not actually about me. It's about my brother.”

Damn it. Stiles very carefully didn't move a single facial muscle. He'd long had something of a Derek Hale problem. He didn't think they'd ever actually been introduced or even spoken to each other, but, well...Derek looked like _that_ and to make things even worse, Stiles had seen him around town more than once helping old Mrs Sanders take her groceries home.

But he was a professional. He could totally compartmentalise.

It turned out Derek had an evil ex who had, thankfully, moved out of town more than three years ago. Unfortunately, she had recently moved back to Beacon Hills and had immediately started being creepy as fuck.

“She has pictures,” Laura said. “From when they were together. Pictures that are...”

Yeah, he knew where this was going. This ex seemed like a real asshole. “Intimate?”

“Exactly,” Laura agreed. “She really messed him up the first time, it took him a long time to...be himself again, you know?” He nodded. “And though they're not together this time, just the fact that she's messing with his head with these pictures...”

“She's threatening to make them public?” It was a personal pet peeve of Stiles', something he'd come across too much in his job as a PI – being betrayed by someone who was supposed to love you when you were at your most vulnerable.

“Make them public, send them to our parents, put them on Facebook, post them around town...” She shrugged. “Anything and everything you can think of, she's threatened to do it.”

“Why?” Stiles questioned, because he'd already decided he was going to end this woman. “What does she want out of it?”

“Nothing,” Laura spat angrily, “she's demanded nothing, she's asked for nothing. As far as I can tell, all she wants to do is fuck with his head.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry,” she added for the cursing, but Stiles wasn't about to complain. As far as he could tell, she had every reason in the world to use a few curse words.

“Don't worry about it. I'll need some details.”

Nodding, Laura opened her handbag and pulled out a couple of folded papers. “This is everything I know about her.”

“Awesome,” Stiles enthused, taking the papers and rifling through them. Kate Argent, no one he was personally familiar with. “Do we have any idea how many pictures there are?”

“Derek thinks about five or six.”

Could've been worse. “And are they hard copies or-?”

“They're on her iPhone,” Laura announced, grimacing at the same time as Stiles did. Technology was a great, terrific, wonderful thing – but it made these situations a thousand times harder to deal with. “I know,” Laura said, mouth twisted unhappily, “I'm asking for a lot, but if you'd seen his face when he came to me...” She took a moment to visibly compose herself before speaking fiercely. “He doesn't even know I'm doing this, no one does. I don't care how but I want all trace of them gone – that means off her phone, off her iCloud, any digital back-up she could have anywhere. It's part of the reason we haven't gone to the police. No disrespect to your dad, Stiles, I know he'd try to help, but the police in general brush these kinds of things off. And I know you're not a...typical Private Investigator, so I thought you might be the right man for the job.” Sighing, she spoke again. “The only plus side is that she doesn't seem to have shared the pictures anywhere. Yet.”

Stiles knew she was right. Though things were getting better – in some areas, there was still a lot of victim blaming when this shit happened. Still, he wasn't about to let anything stop him. “Unfortunately, this happens a lot,” he said. “The good news is that means this isn't my first case like this, not by a long shot. I can get this done for you, Laura.”

She smiled hopefully for the first time since she'd arrived. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Stiles.”

“Thank me when it's done,” he told her. “Also, I need to know...”

Laura frowned at his hesitation. “Know what?”

Stiles decided to just get it out there. “Are there likely to be any...wolfy...indicators...in these pictures?”

She relaxed immediately. “No. From what Derek said, there's nothing like that.”

Okay, good. Well, not good. It was still a huge betrayal of trust and an enormous dick move, but at least she wasn't also threatening a werewolf reveal.

“Okay,” Stiles announced, picking up a pen and clicking the end. “Now the awkward part – what can you afford to pay?”

*

After Laura left, Stiles went through the paperwork she'd given him in more detail. He was in the middle of a couple of cases, but as Kate Argent could release those pictures at any time he felt there was more of a time limit on this one. The Hale case was definitely going to be his priority.

He was just starting to type Kate's information into a few criminal databases he absolutely, definitely didn't have access to, when his cell phone rang. Quickly glancing at the caller ID before answering, he accepted the call and tipped his head to one side, jamming the phone between his face and shoulder. “Hey Kira, how's my favourite literal fox-?”

“Stiles,” she interrupted urgently, “the belt broke.”

Stiles was still busy typing Kate Argent's details into his laptop with both hands so, if he was really being honest, he wasn't paying that much attention. “Okay, so go buy a new-”

“Stiles,” Kira interrupted again and her tone of voice finally got through to him. “ _The_ belt broke.”

Eyes wide, Stiles sat up straight even as he slammed his laptop shut. “Are you at work or home?”

“Work.”

Fuck. Okay. “I'll be there in ten minutes.” He fumbled around for his keys and eyed one of his baseball bats sitting in the corner of the room but no, he wouldn't need that. Not for this. “Just stay calm, do your-”

“Breathing exercises, I know. I'm doing them. Just...get here. Okay?”

“I'm on my way.” Ending the call, Stiles grabbed the potted plant he needed from the window and slammed out of his office.

Eight minutes later he was bursting into the art gallery, shoving his car keys into the pockets of his jeans, clutching the pot with his other hand.

“Oh thank God,” Jared announced loudly, just as the lights flickered overhead. Shoving his glasses further up his nose with a finger, Jared walked towards him. “Look, I still don't really know what it is that you and your _plants_ do, but I know you fix things. So...” he pointed towards the staff area at the back of the building, “go fix this!”

A light blew out on the ceiling, the fixture shattering into pieces around them, forcing them to duck and try to protect their heads. When he was sure he wasn't about to get any glass embedded anywhere painful, Stiles ran to the back of the gallery.

Kira was huddled in the corner of the first room he stepped into.

“Hey hey hey,” Stiles greeted, dropping to his knees next to her.

Kira met his gaze in acknowledgement but didn't say anything, instead focusing on her breathing. The pieces of her belt were on the floor around her. As he'd expected, all the electrics in the room were going haywire.

Placing the plant in front of his knees, Stiles reached into the pocket inside the front of his jacket and pulled out his brass knuckles. Putting them on to his left hand, he brought them briefly up to his mouth. Feeling the reassuring buzz of connection, of focus, he jammed his left hand, knuckles first, into the dirt around the foxglove. It flashed through him the way it always did, the feeling of power, but most importantly of all, the familiarity. The comfort. _Hi, Mom,_ he thought, but then he was opening his eyes and speaking. “Okay, Madame Fox. It's been a while, but you know what we need to do.” Kira didn't respond, just kept her eyes closed, working on her breathing. Stiles covered her hands with his free hand. He needed to do it anyway but it had the added advantage of making her open her eyes. “Kira, come on, you know we need to use your fox fire to help keep the pieces together. I guess you could say it's your...natural magnetism.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

Kira, because she was everything good in this world, didn't even roll her eyes. “Stiles, that's the eighth time you've made that joke since I've known you.”

“Oh, no fair,” he mock-complained. “It's gotta be at _least_ the ninth.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “You ready to do this?”

Determinedly setting her resolve, she nodded.

Two exhausting hours later, Kira had her control back and the two of them were sitting on the floor, utterly drained, leaning against the wall.

“Hey, Kira?” Jared's voice called tentatively from the doorway, making them glance up. “I really don't think you should have coffee right now so I'm making you some herbal tea, okay?”

After a fantastic Kira hug – his friends gave the best hugs – Stiles was putting the foxglove back in the jeep when he heard raised voices. Attention drawn to the other side of the street, he saw Derek Hale and who he immediately knew had to be Kate Argent in the middle of an intense 'conversation'.

Stiles knew he shouldn't get involved. He really shouldn't get involved for a number of reasons. It was unprofessional, Derek probably wouldn't appreciate it, he was exhausted and punch-drunk. Even Stiles knew that he made poor decisions when he was exhausted and punch-drunk. The last thing in the world he should do was get between a complete stranger he'd decided to hate before ever laying eyes on her and the man he'd quietly had a crush on for at least the past five years. There were good reasons not to get involved. But...Derek's _eyebrows_. Stiles was well-versed in all forms of eyebrow communication, okay, his dad was the sheriff – he _knew_. And Derek was clearly...distressed.

Stiles promptly walked over to them.

He didn't want to be lecherous and creepy like Kate – Derek had clearly been through enough already – so didn't touch Derek at all so his intervention could be read as nothing more than friends. Plastering a smile on his face, he gestured behind him with his thumb. "Hey, sorry to interrupt, but Derek, you ready for lunch? Laura's grabbed the table and you know she'll eat all the breadsticks before we get there, man. Don't let this end like the Olive Garden incident of 2016.”

Kate looked like she wanted to smack a bitch. Stiles grinned brightly. Derek...looked surprised for a moment and then apparently just rolled with it? That made things a hell of a lot easier.

“Thanks, Stiles,” he said genuinely. Derek knew Stiles' name? What alternate reality had he apparently teleported to? There better still be pizza pockets in this reality, that's all Stiles was saying.

“Who are you?” Kate demanded and wow, she was an utter delight.

“I'm a friend of Derek's,” Stiles said, brushing her off as he focused back on the man himself. “Let's go, man.”

“I'm Kate,” she announced urgently, like he was supposed to know who she was.

There was no way in hell he was giving her that satisfaction. “Sorry, Derek hasn't told me anything about you,” he said truthfully, then forced himself to stop. It was probably a good idea not to piss her off too much when she still had those pictures of Derek in her creepy, claw-like hands. “You know what he's like, keeps things close to his chest.”

“Oh, I know all about his chest,” she purred, which _ew_. She did, however, seem slightly happier at being 'in the know' about Derek.

Great, just what Stiles was proudest of. Making an utter creep-ball feel good about themselves. “Right, well-”

“Bye, Kate,” Derek said gruffly and then by mutual silent agreement, he and Stiles turned and walked towards the nearby Italian place.

Stiles glanced behind them and when he was sure Kate couldn't overhear them, he started speaking quietly and apologetically. "She just seemed really creepy, man. I had to step in. I know I can be a bit full-on sometimes so I'm sorry if I stepped over the line or made you uncomfortable." The last thing he wanted to do was make Derek's intimacy issues after Kate any worse. 

“No, I wanted to say thank you,” Derek insisted. When he glanced behind them and saw that Kate was slithering away, he stopped walking and turned towards Stiles. “She's...difficult to deal with.”

Stiles didn't doubt it. “Well, you know who I am so you probably know the line of work I'm in, the line of work my dad's in. If she's that persistent, restraining orders are a thing.”

“Believe me, I've thought about it,” Derek said wryly. “I'd like nothing more than to never see her again. But there are - complications.”

Holding up a hand, Stiles pretended he had no idea whatsoever what Derek was talking about. “Say no more, dude, we all have our crap to deal with. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help, okay?”

Derek smiled at him. Derek _smiled_ at him. That was a thing that was actually happening! “You're a lot like your dad.”

Stiles was _fine_. Stiles was calm and adult and professional and totally convincing himself of that. “You know what? I know kids are supposed to hate comparisons to their parents and everything but I will take that compliment, thank you very much.” And on that note, Stiles decided he should leave while he was still riding a high and not making a fool of himself. “Anyway, sorry for butting into your life, I should head back to the office-”

“Wait,” Derek said sincerely, gesturing to the restaurant just a few feet away, “so you're not actually buying me lunch?”

Stiles may have flushed red in approximately 0.54 seconds. “Uh...” Oh yeah, _totally_ a complete adult and professional. One hundred per cent. Smooth, Stiles.

Derek grinned.

It slotted into place. Derek was _teasing_ him. “You asshole!”

Laughing, Derek shook his head. “I'm sorry, that was too easy.”

“You were totally one of those jock jerks in high school, weren't you?”

“Basketball,” Derek admitted, completely without shame.

Uh huh. Stiles could picture it perfectly. A little too perfectly, if he were honest. “As I thought. Well I'm on to you buster,” he insisted, wagging a finger in Derek's face. “I've seen you around town helping little old ladies cross the street. It's all a front. You're actually a giant butt-face!”

Derek didn't even disagree. He simply shrugged. “That's what my sisters _have_ been saying since I was ten years old.”

They were both grinning but then it went on too long and then it got weird and Stiles had been a little too focused on his job and not enough on his love life and had exactly zero idea what he was doing. So he did the only mature and rational thing he could think of.

He panicked and ran away.

*

Thank God, thank God, Scott finally returned his many frenzied calls just after 8pm.

“Stiles?”

“I called Derek Hale a butt-face!” Stiles blurted out. He was still mortified. He, an actual twenty-seven year-old adult, had called another adult butt-face. An adult he wanted to do adult-type things with.

“Hmm,” Scott seemed to think it over while he also seemed to be eating an apple. “Is that because you want to put your butt on his face?”

“ _Scott!_ ” Scott was the worst. “Oh my God, why did I even call you?”

“Beats me,” Scott agreed, but with obvious humour in his voice. “So, come on, give me the details.”

Not about to wait for another invitation, Stiles did exactly that. He didn't tell Scott anything about the pictures Kate had, but he did tell him practically everything else. “...and my name, Scott. He knew my name. He knew who I was.”

“Sure, that makes sense,” Scott told him. “I mean, you work in a town full of supernatural people, usually for those supernatural people, you've worked for his mom a bunch of times, you're working for Laura now, you're the sheriff's son, you ran naked down Main Street a few years ago-”

“Dude.” Low blow. “We agreed. You just broke the bro code. There were extenuating pixie circumstances! Plus,” Stiles thought this was a very important distinction indeed, “Liam did it years before I did.”

“Liam was fifteen.” Whatever. “Anyway,” Scott continued, “the point I'm making is that almost everyone in Beacon Hills knows who you are, definitely every supernatural or magical knows who you are, so-”

“Yeah, yeah, it all makes sense,” Stiles sighed. “It's not proof that he's been pining for me for years and we'll end up getting werewolf married under a full moon in the middle of summer.”

Scott crunched on his apple suspiciously. “You've been thinking about this way too much.”

There was no denying that. “When did you become the logical one anyway?”

They kept trash-talking each other for a while, not meaning any of it, until Scott finally turned serious. “Seriously, bro, I hope it does mean that he likes you, but even if he doesn't, you're awesome. You know that, right?”

Ah, a Scott pep-talk. He liked these. “I do. Thanks, bud.”

“And I...” Scott cleared his throat. “I can't thank you enough for what you did for Kira today, what you keep doing for Kira, I don't know what we'd do if-”

“Hey, hey,” Stiles interrupted and were those tears in his eyes? “Don't be stupid about that stuff, okay? I'd do anything for the two of you, you know that. And one day we'll find a proper solution. A permanent solution.” He and Kira actually had a lot in common. They were both magical and both had issues using their powers. It's just that Stiles' were too weak without a focus object and Kira's were too strong without a focus object. Stiles liked to joke that they balanced each other out.

Stiles also had three bags packed and ready to go, all with fake identities, in case one day the shit really hit the fan. He had no intention of ever telling Scott anything about them unless it became absolutely necessary.

“Yeah,” Scott said eventually. “Yeah. If anyone can do it, you can.”

That was more like it, but seriously – no pressure or anything. “That's what I like to hear. So, how was work today?” he prodded. “Any notable cuteness I should be aware of?”

“Uh,” Scott sniffed but went with it and let the topic change, “Finstock's pekinese was in for his post-op check-up today.”

“Oh my God, the one with the adorable overbite?”

Stiles crashed into bed as soon as the call ended because it had, after all, been a magically and emotionally exhausting day. As he lay there, he couldn't help but think about Derek. Their interaction today had only made his plight so much worse, because they'd actually spoken now. Derek was an _asshole_ and Stiles was an _asshole_ and Derek was just his type.

Ugh.

But Derek was also dealing with an emotionally abusive, possibly stalkery ex. The last thing he needed was Stiles trying to get all up in his business. Embarrassed as he was about it now, Stiles had learned a lot from his obsession with Lydia. There was no way in hell he was going to turn up everywhere Derek was, trying to harass the poor guy into simply noticing him.

No, Derek had been treated shittily enough as it was. Stiles was going to get some sleep, get up in the morning and just do his damn job.

_Awesome._

*

Within a couple of days Stiles had almost everything he needed on Kate Argent. No outstanding warrants anywhere, unfortunately, but unsurprisingly there were a couple of restraining orders in her past. He had her address, her typical daily schedule, he even had the means to wipe the photos off any devices she had at home. The bigger issues, however, were getting his hands on her iPhone, which was likely to be in her possession at all times, and gaining access to her iCloud.

Which was why he wasn't making a move on anything until he heard back from Danny. They weren't what Stiles would call friends, but Danny had been in a similar situation with an ex-boyfriend and was all too happy to help whenever Stiles took one of these cases. Stiles had given him all the information on Kate that he had; now he just had to wait for Danny to do his thing.

In the meantime, he wrapped up another couple of cases, broke the news that a husband was cheating on a wife and stopped an old man from chopping down a tree that a really pissed off raven was extremely protective of.

The raven talked. He also cursed like a sailor.

Stiles got paid in shiny things so he made approximately zero dollars that day. Still, there was no denying how cool it was to be woken up the next morning by tapping on his window to find a row of small shiny objects squeezed in next to his plants. The raven was there too, perched to one side.

Stiles yawned in his face. “Morning, Frank.”

“Stilinski,” Frank muttered. Frank was generally miserable about everything. “Thanks for showing me what you ate last night.”

“You're welcome,” Stiles said chirpily, reaching out for a round, shiny pebble. Examining it in the sunlight, he found it remarkably beautiful. “It's beautiful, Frank. Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Frank said, brushing it off. “We're square now, right? I don't like owing debts to no one.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, bringing the pebble up to his chest as he eyed the rest of the collection. “We're square.”

“Good.” Frank shifted as if he was about to fly off, then chose to speak again. “Remember what I said – that dipshit tries to get rid of that tree again, I'll take his eyes out.”

Stiles knew better than to antagonise him, but even he could only put up with Frank's sunny personality for so long. “I'm sure he'll be quaking in fear.”

With what Stiles thought were surprisingly expressive eyes for a bird – although Frank was also a talking bird, so who was Stiles to judge? – Frank narrowed his eyes and leaned his whole body forward threateningly. “Don't fuck with me, Stilinski.”

Then he flew away and tried to shit on Stiles' head.

Bird-shit thankfully avoided, Stiles was contemplating what to make for dinner that evening when he got a phone call from Heather – she and her girlfriend had seen another fairy ring in the preserve and wanted him to take care of it.

Cursing, Stiles grabbed the St John's Wort, belted it into the passenger seat and screeched towards the preserve. The fae didn't tend to do anything really dangerous – most of the stories were just that, or from a very long time ago – but they could still be a pain in the ass. Dusk was falling as he parked, which was actually useful. This stuff tended to work better just before it got dark.

Carrying the plant to back of the car, Stiles opened the trunk. He placed it inside while he reached for-

“Stiles?”

There may have been some screaming. There was definitely a lot of flailing. Then there was a lot of internal flailing when he saw that it was Derek and he'd been jogging and there was _sweat_ and _collar bones_ and _shorts_.

A man could only take so much. “Derek,” he squeaked. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“No kidding,” Derek grinned.

 _What a dick,_ Stiles forced himself to think. He really wanted to rub his face on Derek's scruff. “Out for a run?”

“Yep,” Derek agreed, still grinning.

“Good, that's good,” Stiles told him and he really wished he could stop talking. “Healthy is good. Exercise...it's all good.” He may have been dying inside.

“That's true,” Derek nodded before looking at the plant. “What're you up to?”

Yes. Work. Focus on the work. “Oh, there's a fairy ring I need to take care of, you know how it is.”

“Is it dangerous?” Did he sound worried?

“Nah, not really,” Stiles assured him. “Usually more annoying than anything else. My magic's unorthodox though, so I need a focus object or two to help out.”

“So...” Derek frowned. “You have a magic wand?”

“Better,” Stiles grinned, taking out the tools of his trade. He fit the brass knuckles onto his left hand then hefted the baseball bat in his right until it was leaning against his shoulder.

Derek nodded, as if he was...impressed? “You have a good job.”

“I know, right?” Stiles enthused, then awkwardly grabbed the plant pot, shoving it towards Derek. “Here, hold my flower.” Derek just blinked at him. “I'm serious, I need you to hold the flower.”

“Oh,” Derek frowned, taking it from him. “Sorry. I thought you were being-”

“Sarcastic, I know,” Stiles winked as he locked up the trunk, then realised he'd just winked and told himself not to do it again. Shoving his keys in his pocket, he reached for the plant. “Here, thanks.”

“I could carry it for you,” Derek blurted out, looking a little surprised at himself for obviously blurting it out, but didn't back away from the offer. “If you think it's safe enough.”

And...well...Stiles had told himself not to chase after Derek, but if Derek apparently wanted to hang out with him by choice? Who was he to say no? “It would make things easier.” At the very least he'd have less to carry. “Just...if anyone does appear, don't tell them your name. And don't drink anything they offer. Or eat anything they-”

“I know about the fae, Stiles,” Derek told him and _someone_ was suddenly sounding a lot more confident than they had a minute ago.

“Not everyone does, Mr Wolfy-Know-It-All,” Stiles shrugged, “better safe than sorry. Let's go.”

Apart from his stint at college, Stiles had lived in Beacon Hills his entire life. He was very familiar with the preserve and knew roughly the area the fairy ring should be in, thanks to Heather's descriptions of a few landmarks. It would only take five or six minutes to walk to where they needed to be. Five minutes with a very attractive and very silent man.

“So, we agree my job's awesome,” Stiles started saying, because he couldn't let the silence just sit there being all...silent. “But what do you do?”

“I'm a carpenter,” Derek said and dammit, of course he fucking was. He had to work with his hands, didn't he?

Stiles honestly did try really, really hard not to picture Derek carving something, or sawing wood. Or rubbing wood. Or holding wood.

His brain was quickly deteriorating into a farce.

“Oh. Sounds cool,” more like hot, but what else was Stiles going to say? “I wouldn't have thought there'd be much demand. What with, you know, technology. And stuff.” Apparently his brain had also cut off all access to his verbal skills. This was almost as bad as butt-face.

“Most furniture is mass produced,” Derek confirmed. “Fortunately, or unfortunately depending how you look at it, there are still plenty of rich people who want that certain piece that has to look a certain way. And they're willing to pay extremely well for it.” He sounded - smug.

Turning his head, Stiles arched his eyebrow at him. “You enjoy ripping them off.”

“My work is worth a lot of money,” Derek said confidently, “given the time and effort I put into it. But...it would be safe to say that I overcharge if the client is particularly...”

“Obnoxious?” Stiles volunteered. Derek nodded in agreement. “Geez,” Stiles muttered, “remind me never to buy any furniture from you.” He'd been called obnoxious as far back as he could remember.

“I wouldn't do that to you,” Derek said quietly. “You'd get the friends and family discount.”

That drew Stiles up short, who stopped walking and turned his whole body towards him. Say what now? “Even though this is only like the second time we've ever spoken to each other?”

“Yeah,” Derek continued, one side of his mouth going up in a small smile. “Even though.”

Oh, Stiles was in _so_ much trouble.

He wasn't imagining this, right? Derek was totally into him.

But...dammit, he was an adult. And he had priorities. “Fairy ring!” he announced, promptly turning around and continuing his search for it. Derek was into him. He was sure of it.

Thankfully, they found the fairy ring within the next ninety seconds or so. Stiles set about doing his thing - knelt on the ground, kissed the brass knuckles, pressed them into the earth on the ground and, for a split second, felt connected to every living thing growing in the forest.

Exhaling a breath, Stiles plucked a few petals from the St John's Wort, letting them drop inside the fairy ring. Muttering a mantra under his breath, he repeated it again and again, adding a few more petals. The entire time, he kept his knuckles pressed into the ground and his baseball bat nearby. The bat was a precaution, one he hadn't needed to use often at all, but he'd always figured it was better to play it safe than sorry.

There was a flash of energy, and a familiar form appeared inside the circle.

“Stiles!” she greeted, sounding delighted.

Oh, boy. He'd been hoping it wouldn't be her. She was in her usual attire – leaves and not much else. “Princess Hyacinth,” he welcomed, “it's good to see you.”

“I can certainly say the same,” she flirted, looking him up and down before realising Derek was there. “Oh, and who's this? Stiles, did you finally get a new focus and didn't think to tell me?”

He tried very hard not to sigh. “Nah, you know me, Hyacinth, I'm a creature of habit. This is my friend, Tony,” he gestured towards Derek. “He was just helping me carry things.”

“Well, he certainly seems fit for purpose.” Hyacinth was now looking Derek up and down. Stiles was beginning to wish he'd refused Derek's offer of help, simply so the poor guy wouldn't have to put up with Hyacinth's overt flirting. “And a werewolf, too. Excellent choice.” Hyacinth wiggled her nose in apparent pleasure. “It's simply delightful to meet you.”

“Thrilled,” Derek replied dryly, causing Stiles to hold in a snort of laughter.

“Now, what can I do for you?” she asked, focusing back on Stiles as if she had no idea at all why they were there in the first place.

He gave her his least impressed face. “Hyacinth, you know exactly why we're here.”

Expression dropping, she immediately began pleading. “Stiles, you know how boring it is-”

“I'm not saying it isn't-”

“-and it's not like I was planning on actually hurting anyone, I just wanted some fun.”

Stiles just nodded in silence. “And did you get permission from the Queen before making the ring?” Her own silence said it all. “The agreement says-”

“I know what the agreement says,” Hyacinth snapped back.

Honestly, Stiles kind of felt bad for her. He'd seen enough of fae society to know there wasn't much for the young ones to do. “Well, I don't know about you, Tony,” he drawled, “but I'm thinking there's no need for us to bring this to the Queen's attention, right?”

“Sounds fair,” Derek agreed. “Princess Hyacinth knows she did something wrong. I could bring some...books, if she's bored-”

“I've read enough stuffy books.” Hyacinth tried to glower, although she was obviously pleased they weren't about to rat her out to her mom.

Stiles had another idea. “How about this?” he suggested. “Most of your magic is based on natural forms of electricity. I bet if I bring a TV, a blu-ray player and some box sets, we can jimmy it up with your magic so you can watch it.”

Hyacinth looked hopeful but confused. “What's a TV?”

“Something that will stop you being bored, I promise,” Stiles told her. “Seriously, it's like the number one past time among humans.”

“Werewolves, too,” Derek volunteered which was oddly adorable.

Eyeing them speculatively, Hyacinth eventually nodded. “Okay. I'm trusting you not to lie to me, Stiles.”

Stiles pressed a hand to chest. “I know better than to cross a fae, Princess.”

They agreed that she'd destroy that fairy ring and create a new one in exactly a week, at which point Stiles would pass over the goods. She would then, of course, have to destroy that ring too.

“You're no fun,” she pouted. “Be seeing you!” She winked out of existence and as they stood there watching, the ring of mushrooms turned into dust and blew away.

Derek broke the silence. “That went well.”

“Surprisingly so,” Stiles turned towards him. “Now I just have to get some non-existent money into my barely-existing bank account and purchase some new electrical goods which will soon be existing on a different plane of reality.”

“I could hire you,” Derek offered and it even seemed sincere.

“To do what?” Stiles started brushing the dirt from his jeans.

“Find me some obnoxious clients to rip off?”

He laughed, briefly. “Ha, that'd be too easy. You have to make me work for it, Derek.”

“Oh?” Derek asked and it seemed to Stiles that he was very deliberately holding his gaze. “You like a challenge?”

Aaaaaaand they were back here. Unfortunately it was pretty hard to have a real moment when it was pitch black, because by now night had definitely fallen. “What's challenging is trying to see where we're going,” Stiles said awkwardly but Derek was kind enough to let him get away with it. Stiles wanted nothing more than to flirt back, but it didn't seem professional or...right while Derek was very personally involved in a case Stiles was working on. “What do you say you use your awesome werewolf vision to get us safely back to the jeep?”

Derek flashed the eyes in question. They were the same colour as Scott's but, because this was Derek Hale, they were ten times more attractive.

When Stiles had gathered everything into his arms, Derek stepped towards him.

“Here, Stiles,” he said, lips twitching as he reached for the plant. “I got your flower.”

Oh, that _smooth_ motherfucker.

*

As luck would have it, Stiles bumped into Laura Hale in the coffee shop the next morning. It wasn't hugely surprising - he'd seen her in there many times, only this time they actually knew each other.

“Hey Stiles,” she greeted, to-go cup in hand. “You have a minute?”

“Sure,” he replied, “I just need to grab my coffee. If it's about the case, we can walk to my office.”

“It's fine,” she shook her head, “I'll grab a couple of seats.”

A few minutes later they were seated around a small table together.

“Any progress so far?” Laura sipped at her drink and from the expression on her face, seemed to enjoy coffee as much as Stiles did.

“I nearly have everything I need,” he said confidently. “I'm just waiting to hear back from my tech guy and then I'll get it done.”

Seeming relieved, she smiled. “Thank you.”

“It's what you're paying me to do,” Stiles pointed out. “Not that I wouldn't want to do it anyway because that kind of grossness always turns my stomach, you know? But,” he drummed the fingers of one hand against the table, “like I said, only worry about thanking me when it's actually done.”

“Right,” Laura said, wrapping both hands around her drink as she focused on it for too long.

Something was definitely up. “Was there something else?”

Clearly taking a breath, Laura looked up at him and smiled genuinely. “Don't ever tell him that I told you this, but my brother's a decent guy.”

Ooookay. “Okay?” This had definitely gone in an unexpected direction.

“He looks out for others. He makes a decent living but gives everything he doesn't need to charity. He makes one hell of a risotto. Before Kate he'd only had positive relationships and experiences, he stayed friends with his exes...”

As though Stiles needed further convincing that Derek was the best thing since sliced bread. What the hell was going on? “Is this...are you...?” There was no way. “Are you pimping your brother out to me?” The idea seemed laughable.

Laura seemed to think it over. “Pimping's the wrong word,” she said. “But essentially, yes.” While Stiles' brain was rebooting at that announcement, she tipped her head to one side and studied him. “He told me what you did a few days ago. With Kate.”

Was that what this was about? “No offense to your brother,” who was definitely hot like smoking, like the surface of the sun, like that time Stiles got sunburn over 90% of his body, “but I didn't get involved just because it was _him_. I dislike gross assholes wherever I see them.” Just ask Jackson Whittemore.

“I'm sure that's true,” Laura nodded, “but I think you're forgetting something.”

“And what's that?”

Lifting a finger, she tapped the side of her nose. “Our inherited genetic disorder?”

Yeah, they were werewolves, so what? Wait...oh, man. “Aww, come on, that's a gross violation of my privacy!” Scott had screwed up his nose enough times in high school, complaining when he could 'smell' that Stiles was lusting over someone.

“To be fair, we do try to ignore it or block it out,” Laura assured him, which didn't assure him at all. “But in some circumstances control can slip, whether you want it to or not.”

The more he thought about it... “Circumstances like dealing with a creepy ex who's threatening to post your most private pictures for everyone to see?” Laura nodded in silence, Stiles' annoyance faded away and he summarily thumped his head down on the table. “Oh my God, he could totally smell that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” Laura sounded amused. Laura was clearly evil. “Did he start avoiding you?”

No, actually. He lifted his head back up. “Well, no.” If anything, Derek had sought him out by volunteering to carry his flower (how did these things happen to him?) “And honestly, last night I started thinking he was flirting with me. On purpose.” He squinted at Laura. “So why are you getting involved? I mean this little chat has been great, truly,” he said sarcastically, “really illuminating. But Derek and I are both adults, we-”

“He's my little brother, he's been hurt,” Laura said bluntly, “and he _likes_ you. I don't think you understand how big that is. He hasn't dated anyone since Kate left. The fact that he wants to interact with you is huge, that he's flirting with you is massive. So, if you're what he wants,” she announced, “I'm going to do everything I can to make that happen.”

Stiles just stared at her wide-eyed. Laura had seemed so normal the morning she'd walked into his office, teary-eyed over the sadist who was tormenting her brother. But...maybe she wasn't the only one over-reacting? She was obviously doing this out of love for her brother and just wanted him to be happy. Though there were undoubtedly better ways to go about it. “Look, obviously, I'm not going to deny the fact that I think Derek's attractive, because,” he tapped the side of his own nose, “ _obviously_. But you can't force us into a relationship-”

“That's not what I meant,” she insisted. “I know I'm coming off the wrong way, it's just...our inherited condition? Sometimes our emotions get the better of us.”

“No kidding,” Stiles replied, vividly remembering the shit he and Scott went through after he'd been turned. “So what do you mean?”

“Just that I want you to have all the facts. You like him, he likes you, I can promise you I would be completely supportive of any relationship you may or may not choose to engage in.”

Holy crap, this woman. He wouldn't want to see what she was like if she wasn't supportive. “That's lovely and all, but he's also the man at the heart of a case that you hired me to deal with. My own dubious ethics are well known, but even I couldn't start dating someone who's part of a case.” As much as he may want to.

“Well, that's not a problem at all,” Laura said with a grin, “it's not like the case is going to last forever, is it?”

And...well, she wasn't wrong.

Just creepy. Very, very creepy.

*

A little after 5pm, Stiles was on the phone trying to talk Keith Hough through the process of stopping a recurring nightmare. Normally he would've gone over there with the valerian root himself but Keith absolutely insisted he wanted to put it together himself, over the phone.

The customer always being right actually meant the customer was really fucking annoying.

Luckily, there were ways where you didn't actually have to be able to cast magic to use magic. “Okay, so you've crushed the flower and didn't get any of the oil on your fingers? Uh huh, and you've put it in a small cloth bag?” As Keith was answering in the affirmative, there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” Stiles yelled, then continued the call. “And you've twisted the roots,” he glanced up at the door, “to...geth...er...”

Derek was standing in the doorway.

Stiles cleared his throat, focusing. “While wearing the gloves, right?” He nodded towards the chair but Derek waved him off, still standing. Okay, then. “And you put the amethyst in the bag? With the roots and crushed flowers? Okay, then you're all set man, just put it under your pillow and you're good to go.” Stiles rolled his eyes at Derek, gesturing towards the idiot on the phone. Derek smiled which was, of course, devastating. “Well Keith, I guess it might be a bit uncomfortable to sleep on. Get another pillow? Sure, okay. Well, good luck and remember what I said – don't touch any of the plant with your bare hands and definitely don't eat any of it or it'll make your previous nightmares seem like kids cartoons. Alrighty bye bye.” Gratefully hanging up and putting his phone down, Stiles was now having to stare up at Derek. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Derek said back and wow, this was going swimmingly.

Stiles shifted in his chair. “Is there...something I can do for you?”

“It's more what I can do for you,” Derek replied instead, which Stiles was valiantly not reading as suggestive at all. Before Stiles could say anything, Derek pulled the door open wider to reveal two boxes sitting in the corridor.

He frowned, recognising the types of boxes they were. No way. “That's...”

“An apology,” Derek offered, leaving the door open as Stiles stood up and walked towards the boxes. “I made Laura pay for half of it.” Then, as an explanation, “She told me what she did. What she said to you today.”

Blinking, Stiles finally moved his gaze away from the TV and blu-ray player and back to Derek. “On purpose?” That didn't seem like her at all.

Chuckling, Derek tipped his head to one side. “Not exactly. It's hard for werewolves to keep secrets from each other. I saw her this afternoon, knew something was going on, and got it out of her. So,” he held a hand out towards the boxes, “I figured the least we could do was help out with Hyacinth. Interesting character.”

“Isn't she?” Stiles asked absently. He wasn't quite sure what he should do right now, but he also knew he didn't really have the money to buy any of this stuff. “I'm not selfless enough to turn free electronics down so, uh, thanks?”

“No problem,” Derek said. “Again, I really can't apologise enough-”

“Nah, it's okay, man,” Stiles stepped away from the boxes, closer to Derek. “She's family. She was looking out for you. She just wants you to be happy.” And, for some reason, thought Stiles could be instrumental in that process. Now Stiles really didn't know what to do next. This was feeling like a moment, Derek's eyes were freaking _amazing_ , but they still didn't really know each other.

“She, uh,” Derek actually seemed to be stumbling for words. It made a nice change. “Laura also told me that she hired you. And why she hired you.”

Stiles' eyebrows rose, eyes widening. “Wow, I'm surprised. I didn't think she was going to tell anyone.”

Derek's lips twitched. “I was persuasive.” Yeah, Stiles just bet he was. “So I guess as well as apologising I also need to say thank you.”

Stiles shook his head. Totally not necessary. “It's my job.”

“True, but you didn't have to take the case.”

“Well, I guess technically that's true,” he kind of had a point, “but there's no way I'm ever letting that kind of a-hole get away with crap like that.”

“Exactly,” Derek agreed with an annoyingly knowing smile. “Which is why I'm saying thank you.”

Geez. “Okay, okay.” Stiles started flinging his hands around as he gestured. “Thanks accepted, apology accepted, can you stop being so damn nice?” He ended up with his hands on his hips. “You're making the rest of us look bad.”

“Well, it's gonna be tough,” Derek smirked, “but I guess I can try not to be so wonderful.”

God damn, Stiles liked him _so_ much. “Thank you. The rest of the world appreciates it.”

They grinned at each stupidly for a few moments. It was nice and, for once, not even awkward.

Derek had to go and ruin things. “There was something else.”

There was more? “What something else?”

Derek quietly cleared his throat. “I understand that there's a conflict of interest. I respect that. However, I'd like to ask you to dinner.” He paused. “When there isn't. A conflict of interest.”

That was just about the cutest shit Stiles had ever seen. Despite Laura's pushiness, he wanted nothing more than to scream yes, and yet he still couldn't quite believe it was this easy. “How can you trust me?” he asked softly. “Especially after what Kate did. You barely know me.”

Derek's eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Stiles, everyone knows you've been helping this town for years.”

“It's my job.”

“Are we going to have this discussion again?” he asked rhetorically. “As I recall, you lost.” Stiles hated it when people out-smarted him – usually. Derek simply continued, probably having no idea that Stiles was finding his intelligence incredibly appealing. “You've been helping us, looking after us. For years. Everyone thinks highly of you.”

He'd genuinely had no idea. Sure, he knew people were grateful when a problem was solved, but that was all. To think that Stiles apparently had a reputation, and not a bad one? It was weird but also made him feel pretty damn good about himself. “Where the hell were you when I was in high school?”

Chuckling, Derek shrugged. “I was probably wrapped up in basketball and then headed off to college. But my point stands,” he added seriously. “If there's one person in this town I'm pretty damn sure I can trust, it's you.”

Stiles' chest felt all gooey inside. And not in the melting organs kind of way. “Well. If you want to go around feeling like I'm all reliable and shit, far be it from me to refuse you the opportunity. But in response to your statement...” Why the hell not? “I'd love to.” He quirked his lips up. “As soon as this case is over.”

After getting the TV and blu-ray player into Stiles' office, followed by an only slightly-awkward handshake, Stiles reached for his phone the moment Derek was gone.

“Heeeeey, Danny. How's it going on the Argent case? You done yet?”

Danny was not, in fact, done yet. Stiles tried not to mope about it.

He wasn't entirely successful, a situation made worse by the fact that Scott, because he was the worst, brought Derek up at a family dinner the next day.

“Derek Hale?” Dad asked while Stiles was busy giving Scott a betrayed glare. “Nice guy from a good family. You could do a lot worse.”

“Definitely nice to look at,” Melissa chimed in, then patted Dad's shoulder when he gave his own betrayed glare. “But not the kind of nice _I_ want to look at.” Pride appropriately soothed, Dad didn't even complain about his last mouthful of broccoli.

“Well I do,” Kira grinned around her glass of wine, “he's gorgeous.”

“He is really hot,” Scott agreed, totally chilled out. “You did good, bro,” he told Stiles and, well, it wasn't like Stiles could ignore the congratulatory fist bump.

A few glasses of red wine later, Stiles got a lot more chatty about, well, everything. “That man is killing me, Scott. Killing me! He works with his _hands_ , he jogs _voluntarily_ , he has a _collar bone_ -”

“Okay, I'm cutting you off,” Dad announced, passing Stiles' glass to Melissa, where it was out of reach.

Stiles didn't even care. “-and those eyes, man.” He remembered something else. “And charity! He charges rich obnoxious dicks-” Melissa thumped her glass down in disapproval, Stiles looked away in apology, “-too much money for his work and then gives the rest to charity. I don't even know which charity-”

Scott squirmed suspiciously in his seat. Stiles zoomed in on the movement instantly. Even halfway to being drunk, Stiles knew what it meant.

“You know something.”

Scott tried, and failed, to look confused. “What? Me? I don't know anything.”

“Don't you lie to me, Scott McCall,” Stiles pointed a finger at him, “we've been best friends, blood brothers, since we were five years old and I stomped on Jackson's foot when he stole your crayons. We've been through everything together, you do not get to-”

“He donates to the animal clinic!” Scott yelled, before sighing and slumping to one side. “I hate when you get like this, man.”

“It is a little intense,” Kira admitted.

Great, now Stiles felt bad.

“Welcome to my life,” Dad said, which certainly didn't help matters.

Stiles was still digesting the news. “The animal clinic? You never said-”

“Well, sure, all the donors' information is kept private. I love you, dude, but even I'm not going to go around handing out confidential information about a guy you have a crush on.”

It was like Scott didn't even know him. Still... “The animal clinic? This is even worse. He helps _animals_...”

“Yeah, I'm starting on the dishes,” Melissa announced, standing up and grabbing a few before making her way towards the kitchen.

“Sometimes,” there was a certain look in Scott's eye like he'd just had an idea, “he comes in and holds the puppies. Against his chest.”

Stiles gawped at him. “Don't you dare.”

Scott would not be denied. “Dude, you owe me. Sometimes it's the kittens instead. And he holds them,” he paused dramatically, “ _shirtless_.”

While it was, unquestionably, a lovely image, there was no way it was true. “Okay, now I know you're fucking with me.”

“Language,” Dad rebuked, like Stiles was still sixteen and living at home and not, in fact, a fully grown man who...was obsessed with the mental image of Derek holding various adorable animals against his naked chest.

Yeah. Okay.

“Sorry, Dad.”

Things wrapped up not long after that. Everyone helped with the cleaning up, before Scott and Kira left with hugs and a kiss.

“I think he's going to be great for you,” Kira said warmly as she pulled away, then slipped out of the house with Scott.

The words stuck in his head as he pulled his jacket on and jammed his feet into his shoes.

“Oh, I know that look,” Dad said, making Stiles turn to look at him. “What's going on, kid?”

Sighing, Stiles pulled out his keys and started fiddling with them, looking off to one side. “Kira said something and...I think she's right. I think Derek could be good for me.” He wasn't really sure how he knew, but he couldn't deny that the feeling was there. “But...” he glanced up, “God, Dad, I'm such an anxious mess. Work is good, work is better than good, but anything to do with my personal life...” He shrugged. “You know I've never had a real relationship, I feel like I fuc-screw things up before I get anywhere near that. How am I going to be good for anyone else? I still have panic attacks, I curse too much, I'm too much, I'm too _me_ -”

“Kid,” Dad interrupted kindly, stepping forward and putting a hand on Stiles' shoulder. “First of all, I am not going to be unbiased about this, but you're a terrific young man. Perfect, no. But worth loving? Without a doubt.” His hand squeezed Stiles' shoulder. “Second, he's already made it clear he likes you, right? Even though you've spoken a few times now.” That was true.

“Yeah.”

“Right,” Dad nodded. “So he already has first-hand knowledge of your sparkling personality, and he's not run screaming,” he joked, eyes crinkling at Stiles' put out expression. “If anything, he wants to know more.”

That was – also true. Stiles felt his shoulders start to relax. “Yeah.”

“I say – see what happens,” Dad encouraged. “It might work out, it might not. Just don't stop yourself from trying before it even happens, okay?”

Clearing his throat, Stiles nodded decisively. “Okay.”

“Good,” Dad said warmly, then pulled Stiles into a hug, “Love ya, kid.”

Closing his eyes, Stiles clutched back firmly. “Love you, too, Dad.”

Dad didn't even release him before speaking again. “You're not planning on driving, right?”

“Nah, I walked here.”

“Good,” he said, before pulling away and opening the front door. “Now get your butt home, I need to be up early tomorrow.”

*

As if divined by fate, Danny called the next morning to say he was done.

“Everything on her cloud is gone and I've quietly introduced a 'technical issue' that will stop her phone automatically uploading anything to her cloud until you've dealt with it. All her social media accounts are clean, she's not a member of any other photo or file hosting sites. The only hardware I've identified that could have the pictures on them are obviously her phone, a laptop and an external hard drive.”

There was probably no one else in the world who was as awesome as Danny was. “Danny, you are the man.”

“Yeah, well as always, just remember this man had nothing to do with it if you get caught.”

“You're a true supporter of the cause, Danny,” Stiles snarked before hanging up.

He spent the next couple of hours parked outside Kate Argent's apartment. It gave Stiles plenty of time to think over the evening before. He never should've drunk that much, wine always made his anxiety worse, but at least he ended the night getting a big confidence boost from his dad.

Stiles'd had confidence issues for a long time. He'd been a difficult child, not always by choice and as a result had never had many friends. He was prone to irritate people and the ADD certainly didn't help. For years he'd convinced himself that Scott only stuck with him because he was undyingly loyal and not because there was actually something about Stiles worth sticking around for.

His utter adoration of Lydia and her complete ignorance of him hadn't helped either. He'd wanted nothing more in the entire world than for Lydia to notice him and it'd never happened. That wasn't Lydia's fault; it was his own for putting a complete stranger on a pedestal and then expecting her to pay attention to him. It was part of the reason he'd never even tried anything with Derek despite the fact he'd thought he was gorgeous for years. Here was another beautiful stranger and Stiles couldn't be the creepy guy lusting after him at every opportunity again.

But now he might actually get to know Derek. And Dad was right – Derek wanted to get to know him.

It could crash and burn. But it could be totally awesome, too.

He waited a few minutes after he saw Kate leaving – right on schedule – before locking up the jeep and oh so casually breaking into her apartment. He already knew she had no security system to speak of and being a cops kid – as well as being terminally fascinated by everything to do with crime – Stiles had picked up more than a few morally questionable skills.

He was mostly just grateful that she didn't have a dog. He hated dealing with dogs.

From the inside her apartment was nice enough, he supposed. Sadly, there were no obvious signs of satanic worship. No pentagrams, blood running down the walls or anything else that would explain why she was such an asswipe. She was just a garden variety sociopath.

Fortunately, the laptop was plainly in view on top of a set of drawers in her bedroom. There was a thin layer of dust so it hadn't been used for a while, but Stiles didn't even need to touch it to do what he needed. Pulling out the device Danny had put together for him years ago – that was very carefully nowhere near his own phone – he held it right next to the laptop for a few seconds before moving on.

The external hard drive was only a little harder to find, hidden away in a bottom drawer. He promptly used the device on that, too.

Stiles was not a man who left things to chance however, and gave the apartment a thorough search to make sure there was nothing they were missing – another device, the pictures already printed out somewhere. All he found was a USB stick so he wiped that, too.

After that, it was simply a matter of quietly sneaking out, taking off his gloves and calmly walking back to his jeep.

Stiles sat there, both hands gripping the steering wheel, and didn't feel bad about any of it.

Derek might, though. And if they were really going to try this, he deserved to know.

First, though, Stiles had a call to make. “Hey, Joey,” he said when the guy picked up, “it's Stiles. Got a job for you.”

Even Stiles thought that ruining Kate's phone right in front of her himself would be too suspicious. That's why he had a couple of 'occasional employees' he paid under the table as and when they were needed for situations like this.

Yeah, there were so many reasons why he'd never gone into law enforcement.

He heard from Joey a couple of hours later – quite creatively, he'd somehow managed to 'knock her phone into a puddle', which was all the more amazing given how little it rained in California. But, Stiles didn't ask how Joey got it done and Joey didn't tell. Joey just went to the drop off point and picked up his money.

It didn't take Stiles long to track down where Derek was, building furniture on the Hale property. Mostly because he'd called Laura to tell her the job was done and ask where her brother was. He was a private investigator, see.

Stiles gawped up at the house as he climbed out of the jeep. He'd seen it a couple of times, but not for years and definitely not from this close. Derek's family must've been loaded.

“Hey,” Derek said, sounding pleased if confused, walking towards him from what looked like a workshop. No doubt, thanks to his wolfy hearing, he'd heard the jeep coming. He'd obviously been working, wearing protective goggles on a strap hanging around his neck while covered in wood dust.

Stiles still wanted to eat him up. With whipped cream. But...he came here for a reason. He cleared his throat. “Okay, so here's how it is.”

Drawing to a stop, Derek frowned at him. “How what is?”

“The truth about me,” Stiles said, and then just launched into it. “I like you and I'd like to date you, but I think before we do anything you need to know what you're getting into. I don't want you to waste your time and have you find out later that there's something about me you just can't live with.”

Annoyingly, Derek looked amused but at least he didn't try to stop him. “Okay.”

Right, good. Okay. “I curse. Probably too much. Sometimes I can't concentrate on anything, sometimes I hyperfocus on something to the point of ridiculousness. Sometimes I'm focusing on three things at once.” He took a breath. “My personal ethics are so grey they're nearly black? I broke I don't know how many laws today, breaking into Kate's apartment, wiping everything on all of her devices.” Actually, he knew exactly how many laws he'd broken but he wasn't trying to brag at the moment. “There could've been precious memories, irreplaceable personal photos, vital contact information – and I...don't care.” He paused, thought about it again and – nope. He still didn't give a shit. “She was a piece of shit and I genuinely don't care if I've fucked her over in some way. And she's not the first person I've done that to.” Stiles licked his lips. “I've never had a serious relationship, not because I didn't want to but because I don't seem to know how?” He'd just never had enough experience to get the practise in. “I can go way over the top – this right here being a case in point, actually, but then I guess your sister and I have a lot in common and wow that's a comparison I'm wishing I hadn't made.” Who wanted to date their own sister? “I suffer from anxiety, I sometimes have panic attacks, I'm loyal to a fault. I'm only close to a few people and I would do literally anything for them. If my best friend told me he'd killed someone, not only would I help him hide the body, I'd chop that mother fucker into pieces and then dissolve the pieces in acid and hide them at the four corners of the globe.”

There. There. Letting out a long breath, Stiles realised he actually felt a lot better. “So, you see,” he continued, holding Derek's gaze. “I'm not always a good person. And I think you need to be aware of that. So just...think about it, okay?”

Derek didn't look amused anymore but he didn't look angry, either. He just looked like he was taking everything Stiles said seriously, which was all Stiles could ask for, really.

“I will,” Derek said firmly.

Nodding, Stiles left in silence. Derek stood behind the jeep as Stiles pulled away, unmoving, until he was so far away Stiles couldn't see him in the rear-view mirror.

*

Two days later, Stiles was rubbing a puppy over his face. It was unsurprisingly therapeutic especially when the little thing yawned loudly. Stiles was in love and cooed at her helplessly.

“And you're absolutely sure you weren't sabotaging yourself.”

“No,” Stiles huffed, lowering the puppy because it wasn't the first time Scott had suggested this. “I'm telling you, I felt great afterwards. I wasn't trying to scare him off, but I was trying to take control. I did what I could, I laid it all out there. It's up to him, now.” And Stiles was surprisingly okay with that. Little Dudette flopped onto her side, stretching her limbs out. “Oh my God, you are so adorable.”

“You know she's looking for an owner,” Deaton remarked as he strolled into the room.

“I wish,” Stiles scoffed, scratching her fuzzy butt. “But there's no animals allowed anywhere in the building.” Picking Little Dudette back up, he held her cute little face up to his. “We should get Derek in here to do some of that shirtless modelling. I bet you'd sell like hotcakes then, yes you would.”

“If you say so,” Deaton said dryly, then gestured towards the back room. “If you're ready, Stiles?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stiles huffed, passing the puppy back to Scott. “I will see you later, missy.”

“Hey,” Scott called out just as he was about to leave the room, “don't make anything explode this time, okay? It freaks the animals out.”

“That wasn't even my fault,” Stiles pointed out, then threw a thumb behind him pointing to the back room. “Ix-nay on the Eaton-day and orm root-way.”

“Stiles,” Deaton announced patiently, “you do know that I understand pig latin.”

Stiles winked at Scott, then turned and finally walked into the next room. “Of course I do, Doc, you're just so much gosh darn fun to rile up.”

Deaton simply stared at him. “Lucky me.”

*

That evening, Stiles was trying to figure out the logistics of transporting everything he needed to give Hyacinth when the jeep really couldn't go that far into the preserve. Maybe Scott would be available...

He was saved, quite literally, when his phone rang – though he didn't know it right away.

“Stilinski Investigations, how can I help you?” he asked cheerily, groping around the edges of a box with his free hand, checking for any convenient hand holds.

Quiet laughter sounded on the other end of the call. “Your telephone voice sounds nothing like you.”

Stiles froze for a moment while his brain processed this new information. _Derek._ “Yeah, well, unlike _some_ people I actually have to make my customers think I give a crap about them.”

“Sucks to be you,” Derek retorted and yeah, this was going to be be _fun_.

Stiles was pretty damn sure he already knew where this was going, even if he didn't know exactly how it was going to get there. “So, what can I do you for?”

“Well,” Derek began, “I have a proposition.”

This sounded promising. Standing and walking towards his desk, Stiles dropped into his chair. “Uh huh. And what kind of proposition is that, exactly?”

“Well, it crossed my mind that Princess Hyacinth would be expecting a TV very soon. And that it would be quite strenuous taking it all out there by yourself. Whereas I, an extremely strong werewolf-”

“Oh my God,” Stiles muttered, slapping his free hand over his eyes even as he kept grinning.

“-who's also incredibly brave-”

“This is terrible.” Stiles sank further back into his chair.

“-not to mention an excellent provider-”

“I'm embarrassed for you, truly.”

The humour started to die down and then, eventually, Derek said, “I just thought you could use some help.”

Grinning at the ceiling, Stiles closed his eyes. “I'd like that.”

Derek arrived at the office a little before dusk and, together, they loaded everything into the jeep. Stiles had also scrounged up a small cardboard box for cables, batteries and anything else he could think of, just in case.

Greeting each other was comfortable, the drive over there was comfortable, in fact everything about him and Derek together just felt really relaxed.

Stiles was not used to this at all. He liked it, he just wasn't used to it. He was kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Thankfully, everything with the princess went off without a hitch. She flirted with Derek again, but that was a given at this point. He and Stiles explained the TV and blu-ray player and what they were supposed to do, showed how they connected to each other. Hyacinth was familiar with the concept of electricity and seemed to think she'd have no problem changing or converting or whatever the hell it was she did to her magic until she got it all working.

“I can't thank you enough, Stiles!” she enthused, tapping each object one by one and making them vanish – no doubt ending up in the fae realm. “Which should I try first?” she asked, holding a box set in each hand.

Stiles had donated them willingly, everything was accessible on digital now anyway. “Uh, maybe not Breaking Bad? Ease your way into that one.”

“Okay,” she agreed easily, and then both box sets vanished too. “Thank you so much,” Hyacinth reiterated, leaning in for...whoa, a kiss?

Stiles jerked back. “Hey now, Princess, you know better than that.”

“It was worth a try,” she shrugged easily, before slyly looking across to Derek. “Your new focus keeping you busy, huh?”

“That's between me and Tony,” Stiles responded, because it didn't seem like a good idea to give any fae too many details.

“I bet it is,” she leered.

They made plans to return with more box sets and then as quickly as she'd appeared, Hyacinth vanished. They both stayed to make sure the fairy ring crumbled away again.

“Huh,” Derek said.

He couldn't help but be curious as they started trudging back towards the car. “Huh what?”

“For someone who lives on another plane of existence, who didn't even know what a TV is, she talks a lot like a human.”

Oh, that. “Yeah, uh,” he scratched as his neck. “That's kind of my fault? I was a teenager the first time we met - and I was also the first human she'd directly interacted with, which is pretty amazing given how old she is, though in fae terms she's still a teenager herself. I think she was...influenced?” Derek was clearly trying not to laugh. “Shut up.”

“How old is she, anyway?” Derek asked, having apparently decided to stop tormenting Stiles.

“Oh at least a hundred and fifty,” Stiles replied with a wink. “But you know what they say – never ask a lady her age.”

Stiles drove Derek home since, like the healthy freak that he was, he'd walked to Stiles' office. He worked at the Hale house but, as it turned out, didn't actually live there. His own apartment was only about five minutes drive from Stiles' in a much nicer part of town.

Pulling in across from Derek's apartment building, Stiles cut the engine, nodding in approval as he peered out the window. “Yep,” he nodded to himself, “you earn way more money than I do.”

Derek chuckled. “Is that a deal breaker?”

“Oh, not at all,” Stiles promised. “You can keep me in the lifestyle to which I'm accustomed – curly fries and pizza pockets.”

Seeming to think about it, Derek shrugged. “I could probably swing that.”

“Good to know.” They smiled at each other in the darkness of the jeep and it was still surprisingly not awkward. Stiles was starting to think he could get used to this. “And hey, man, thanks so much for your help earlier – I appreciate it. And...weird as it objectively was, I had a good time.”

Derek just kept smiling. “So did I.”

“I'm really glad you decided to call.”

“So am I.” There was more of that smiling. Stiles just wanted to kiss it right off his face. They _were_ leaning closer to each other...

“I'm going to kiss you now.”

“So am-”

“Oh my God, would you just-” They surged towards each other. Now, Stiles hadn't had serious relationships, but he'd certainly had sex. He'd even had some really good sex. Kissing Derek was still, hands down, the best kissing experience he'd ever had.

It was, inevitably, a little imperfect at first – noses bumping, their teeth clacking together as they pushed towards one another – but once they shifted position a little and figured out how to fit together...hoo boy. Stiles could do this allllll day.

Derek's mouth was firm but yielding, his stubble rough but hypnotising. Stiles kept petting it, a lot, with a free hand. Derek introduced tongue and yep, Stiles was down with that, absolutely one hundred per cent A-OK with that development.

Stiles honestly had no idea how much time passed, it could've been five minutes, it could've been three hours. All he knew was, when they finally pulled away from each other, his face and his mouth felt well-used in a very enjoyable way.

In even better news, Derek looked just as destroyed. “That...” He began. “Well...” He started again. “I'll call you?” He seemed confused by even thinking right now.

Stiles loved it. “Sure.”

Derek nodded, looking at nothing. “Right.” Then he focused back on Stiles. “You have my number?”

“I saved it after you called earlier.”

“Good. Okay, well,” he put his hand on the car's door handle, like he was about to pop the door open, “I should go.”

Stiles smiled at him. “Okay.”

Derek didn't go anywhere. His gaze fell to Stiles' lips, and then they were kissing again.

Best night _ever_.

*

Stiles was very pleased to say the happiness trend continued. They quietly dated each other over the next couple of weeks, every single date ending with a make-out session of epic proportions. Stiles was rapidly making up for all the action he'd missed out on in high school and he couldn't have been happier.

Derek made suggestions for what to do on their dates but was also open-minded about Stiles' ideas. They spent more than one date at the local diner, where Derek seemed to be developing a curly fry obsession of his own.

He even endured a double-date with Scott and Kira and though they were two of the most easy-going people anyone could ever meet and had given Derek a huge thumbs up, Derek had hated it just as much as Stiles had. Still, the two of them managed to end the night on a good note, deciding to make up for the crappy evening by taking the next step and jerking each other off against the door to Derek's apartment.

Fortunately they made it as far as inside the apartment, not outside.

The next morning, Stiles slowly woke up in Derek's enormous and enormously comfortable bed. Light was peeking in around the curtains and as he slowly blinked his eyes open he could see the man in question quietly breathing next to him. Stiles was on his back but Derek apparently preferred laying on his front, sleeping soundly, his right arm tucked up underneath him. His arm was totally going to be dead when he woke up.

Rolling onto his side, Stiles took the opportunity to just look at him. It was the first time they'd spent the night together since they'd started dating but, other than the initial frantic jerk-off session when they'd arrived, nothing else had happened. Derek had insisted, nonetheless, that Stiles stay the night seeing as they'd both got carried away, come all over each other, and the least he could do was clean their clothes.

Stiles wasn't an idiot. He wasn't about to say no.

It was still all so strange, though. At least for Stiles. He huffed out a breath.

Derek surprised him by speaking with his eyes still firmly shut. “Are you being creepy?”

Lips quirking up, Stiles rolled closer to him. “Depends how you define creepy.”

Lazily opening his eyes, Derek smiled up at him just as lazily. With his head smooshed against a pillow, hair untamed, a thicker version of the stubble Stiles was used to seeing and wearing absolutely nothing, Derek clearly had no idea how mind-meltingly attractive he looked.

How the fuck had Stiles even landed this guy?

He had no idea really, but the fact was, he had. And he knew Derek wasn't going anywhere. Which was even more remarkable.

“You've got a thinky face on,” Derek murmured into his pillow. Evidently, his vocal skills weren't up to scratch first thing in the morning. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Stiles promised him. “Just still getting used to...” He gestured towards Derek's _everything_.

“A new relationship?” Derek prompted, bringing his arm up a little higher – apparently his arm wasn't dead after all – and resting his head against that instead of the pillow directly.

“Well, that,” Stiles agreed, “but it's also...” He shifted, sitting up further to lean back against the headboard. “Remember that incredibly over-dramatic speech I made at your parent's house?”

“Oh, I remember.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes accusingly. Derek smiled warmly. “Anyway, I remember telling you a lot about my issues and anxieties, but it's like since we actually started this they're just...gone?” Hmm, that wasn't quite right. “Well, not entirely, I'm still me. But when it comes to relationship stuff. Stuff with you. It's like there's...no fear. No confusion. No doubt. I'm just...sure. Certain. Even saying this to you now,” he continued explaining, “I'm not worried or scared that you're going to freak out or that you won't feel the same way. I'm just...sure. About all of it.”

Derek took in what he was saying for a while. “But that's good, right?”

“Oh, it's undoubtedly good. Absolutely good,” Stiles assured him. “Weird, but good. Did you feel like that in any of your previous relationships?”

“No,” Derek said roughly, immediately. “No, they were nothing like this.”

Well that just made him feel all fuzzy inside. Reaching out a hand, Stiles started playing with his hair. “Even the ones that weren't sociopaths?”

Closing his eyes, Derek's whole body relaxed down against the bed. “Even those.” It wasn't long, however, until his body stiffened and he quickly sat up.

Stiles snatched his hand back like it was on fire. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong,” Derek said, “I just realised...or thought...”

“Thought what?” Stiles had to know what the hell was going on.

“I can't say for sure,” Derek explained, “I don't even know how we'd know for sure. But...you're a magical creature. I'm a magical creature. I guess it could be possible...”

“What's possible?” Stiles slapped him on the arm. “Come on, give me a freaking clue.”

“Just that there are stories, passed down from each generation. Going back as far as anyone can remember. That two shifters who are the best match for each other form an unbreakable bond that...strengthens them. Balances them.”

“Dude,” Stiles was still trying to process all this, “are you saying we're _werewolf married?_ ” He was so telling Scott.

“No,” Derek said fondly, ruining all his dreams. Reaching over slowly, he took Stiles' hand. “But we could be...bonded.”

Sounded pretty damn cool to Stiles. Smiling, he squeezed Derek's hand. “Well I gotta say...I'd be just fine with that.” But then when he started thinking about it... “Wait, does that mean we were fated for each other or something?” He wasn't really down with that shit. Stiles was his own man, thank you very much.

“No,” Derek shook his head, “that's not how it works. You have free will, it's just...if you do get as far as starting a relationship with each other...”

“It's like the universe is congratulating you with some bonus magic bonding? Like...good job, guys!” He thrust a fist into the air. “You two make an excellent pair.”

“Maybe?” Derek shrugged. “My uncle would probably know more about it, he's always been fascinated by werewolf lore and history.”

Stiles was still focusing on the actual bonding news itself. “Bonded. We're bonded.” It did feel right to say it – it felt like it explained what was happening between them. And then he remembered something else, clutching at Derek's forearm. “Oh my God, this totally explains your curly fry obsession the last couple of days.”

Derek started shaking his head, dismissing the idea out of hand – then paused mid-way and thought about it. “Maybe it does.”

Smug, Stiles rested back against the headboard. “Dude, I totally got the better end of this bonding deal.” Not that curly fries didn't taste awesome, but having way less anxiety to deal with? Yeah, that one was a total no-brainer. “So, Mr Hale, does this mean I can finally tell my dad we're going steady?”

Rolling his eyes, Derek took his arm back in playful disgust. “You want my letter jacket too?”

Stiles sat forward urgently. “Tell me you still have it. Not for me, for you. I want to see you in it, I have a mighty need-”

“Stiles-”

“Is it in your closet? I bet it's still in your closet.” Throwing the covers to one side, Stiles jumped out of bed. He was being ridiculous, he knew he was being ridiculous but he'd also be an utter liar if he said it hadn't gone perfectly to plan when Derek grabbed him and playfully threw him back onto the bed. Especially when Derek climbed on top of him, holding him in place.

Stiles mock-leered up at Derek's extremely close face. “Well hello there, sailor.”

Sighing, Derek nonetheless released his hold on Stiles' wrists and started, instead, kissing his way down one side of Stiles' throat. “You're extremely annoying.”

Shuddering, Stiles arched up into the next kiss. “Yeah. Yep, I can tell just how annoying you find me right now. It's really,” Derek did something with his tongue. Stiles gasped. “Obvious.”

Sliding down Stiles' body, intent obvious as he braced himself just about Stiles' groin, Derek glanced up at him. “This okay?” he asked seriously.

Stiles' heart just _melted_. “Yeah. Yeah, Derek, that's more than okay.”

Derek gave him the sweetest, kindest smile.

Then gave Stiles the filthiest blow job he'd ever been the recipient of.

*

They both pretty much made their own hours and as neither of them had anything particularly urgent – or more accurately because they'd just had sex for the first time and didn't want to work – they decided to play hooky.

It was _awesome_.

They exchanged several more orgasms, Stiles discovered the glorious water pressure in Derek's shower and it was some time after noon that they finally ventured out for food. Neither one of them could be bothered to cook so they ended up at the local diner again.

Pushed up against each other on the same side of the booth, they silently devoured their food, Stiles' free hand resting on Derek's thigh and Derek's leg hooked around his underneath the table. They were turning into one of _those_ couples and Stiles didn't give a single shit.

They each paused eating, occasionally, to grin stupidly at each other, but didn't speak. For once in his life Stiles didn't _need_ to speak and that was probably the most amazing part of all.

Their peace was shattered when a commotion outside drew everyone's attention. Curious, Stiles regretfully peeled himself from Derek's side, threw some money onto the table and headed towards the exit. “Come on, let's see what's going on.”

They both stumbled to a stop as soon as they stepped outside. Stiles sighed in recognition. Derek frowned and tipped his head to one side. “Is that...a baby dragon?”

What it was was a young wyvern, who recognised Stiles and thankfully took to Derek right away. This worked out extremely well, as it meant she followed them into the jeep and happily nuzzled up to Derek in the passenger seat while Stiles drove her home. Derek looked, remarkably, only slightly terrified by the whole thing.

Rebecca (not what her birthmother would've named her, Stiles was damn sure) was barely a year old so she fortunately fit inside the jeep. She was dirty pink in colour and though oddly cute she was also somehow not particularly nice to look at. He kept that to himself, as the last thing Stiles was ever going to do was tell a wyvern that she really wasn't aesthetically appealing.

She did have awesome taste in music, though, and screeched happily along with the radio. Stiles joined in, though with more singing and less screeching.

“This is really not what I expected to end up doing today,” Derek announced over the ruckus.

“ _I don't think you're ready for this jelly,_ ” Stiles sang back at him and would swear until his dying day that Derek joined in on the next line.

And so it was that the two of them, holding a wyvern toddler, knocked extremely enthusiastically on Gabe Ryan's door.

Gabe, for his part, sighed in relief the moment he saw them. “Thank God,” he declared, holding up his cell phone. “I was just about to call you.”

Stiles was not impressed, barging into the house. He and Derek carefully placed Rebecca down before turning to confront Gabe, who closed the door. “Gabe, we've been here before.”

His shoulders slumped. “I know, Stiles.”

“This is not the first time this has happened. You're just lucky there were no out-of-towners around.”

Chagrined, Gabe nodded. “I know, Stiles.”

Stiles was still not impressed. “Do I need to contact her birthmother?”

“No!” Gabe interrupted. “No, please. I'll do better, I promise.”

Hmm. Stiles had heard that before. But...Gabe was being so _earnest_ and now Stiles felt like the bad guy. Which was annoying because it was actually bothering him this time. Was this because of that stupid bond thing? Ugh. “Rebecca's birthmother did you a great honour by letting you raise her.” Stiles personally couldn't imagine giving up your own child; it'd been a thank you for the years of friendship and kindness shared between the wyvern's family and Gabe's family, going back generations. “But...I also know you've been doing a solid job apart from these couple of incidents. And wyvern are notoriously curious.” Honestly, they were lucky it hadn't happened a lot more often. “Just remember,” Stiles clapped him on the shoulder, “as soon as she figures out her invisibility thing, she can go wherever she damn well pleases, okay?”

Visibly relieved, Gabe happily nodded his agreement. “I know. I, uh,” he shuffled awkwardly from side to side. “I don't really have any money at the moment.”

Stiles shook his head. “Don't worry about-”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, holding up a hand. “I know!” Turning, Gabe trotted out of the living room, before returning just a few moments later. “Here.” He held a yummy looking fruit pie out towards them. “It's fresh, apple, I made it just this morning. Rebecca's favourite, but,” he grinned over towards her, “I'm sure she won't mind.”

Rebecca flapped her wings but didn't seem to object. And Stiles sure as hell wasn't about to turn one of Gabe's famous fruit pies down. “Thanks, man. That's nice of you.”

“It's nothing.”

Stiles said his goodbyes, leaning over Rebecca and scritching the side of her neck. “Bye bye, baby girl.”

Rebecca made a noise not unlike a purr, then screeched at Derek until he gave her the same kind of scritching.

Back in the jeep, Stiles greedily started picking at the pie with his fingers. “Dude, you have to try this, Gabe makes the best pies. Don't ever tell my stepmom that,” Melissa could be terrifying, “but it's totally true.” He was sucking crumbs off his thumb when he realised Derek was studying him. And not in a sexy way. “What's up?”

Derek nodded towards the pie dish. “Is that how you always get paid?”

Ohhh. “Well, not always pie specifically,” he joked, “and some can afford to pay cash – like Laura did. But...yeah. Pretty much.” Stiles cleared this throat. “I actually got really lucky – because I helped the right people a couple of times my rent is nowhere near what it should be and I get a really good deal on my utilities and rates. And sometimes I do get to do actual investigation work, shocking as that sounds,” he grinned. “My job is, admittedly, a lot more about the magical stuff than I ever thought it would be, but...they seem to need the help. I guess people needed a problem solver more than they needed an investigator. Luckily, I'm awesome at both.” Waggling his eyebrows, about to go for more pie-

And Derek was kissing him.

Surprised, Stiles nonetheless quickly kissed him back, pie dish resting on his lap as his hands came up to cup Derek's face.

When Derek pulled away, he made a show of licking his lips. “That pie is good.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles elbowed him for being terrible. “Not that I don't appreciate a good tongue workout, but what was that for?”

“Just because,” Derek said mysteriously.

Hmpfh. “Just because, huh?”

“Just because,” he repeated.

“Well, Mr 'Just Because', hold this.” He thrust the pie dish towards Derek, then wiped his fingers off on his jeans and started the engine. “Also, you've got pie all over your artfully-sculpted stubble.”

They ended up spending the rest of the day together, and the night too. They stayed at Derek's again, obviously, and the next morning Stiles idly wondered if he could get away with moving his business into Derek's apartment to always have access to his bed and shower – oh! And the coffee machine. That thing made _great_ coffee.

Speaking of, Derek padded barefoot back into the bedroom wearing literally nothing, carrying two cups of coffee.

Stiles was definitely on to a good thing here.

Placing his own coffee on the side, Derek carefully leaned across the bed and passed Stiles' drink over.

Grabbing it eagerly, Stiles wrapped both hands around the mug before bringing it up to his nose to breathe in the aroma. “You are a god amongst men.”

Shaking his head fondly, Derek climbed back into bed. They canoodled and sipped at their coffee for a while and life was pretty much perfect. Tragically, this bliss was not to last.

“I should probably get some work done today,” Derek announced quietly, being all responsible and shit. 

“Me too,” Stiles admitted with a sigh. “Being an adult bites.”

“That it does,” Derek agreed. “But I wanted to ask you something.”

He'd been leaning against Derek's shoulder, but at that statement Stiles shifted around in bed, focusing on him fully. “Ask away, my good man.”

“Well, my parents are having a family dinner tonight. And they wanted to know if you'd like to attend.”

Whoa, meeting the parents? “I've never met the parents before,” he murmured, mostly to himself. He'd met Talia before, obviously, but in a completely different capacity. He'd always wondered how he'd cope. Would he be suave and sophisticated? Would he make a fool of himself?

The second one had always seemed much more likely.

“If it's too much, or too soon,” Derek began, “I understand. But the meal was happening anyway-”

“No,” Stiles interrupted warmly, place a hand on Derek's arm. “It's okay. I'd love to come.”

“Yeah?” Derek asked with a relieved grin.

“Yeah,” Stiles told him and then had to give him a kiss. He was still remarkably zen about this relationship shit. Besides, he already knew Talia and Laura, so it wasn't as if he'd be meeting a group of complete strangers.

*

The work day passed...as a work day. Stiles actually did some investigating – to locate a missing set of magical bagpipes.

His job was the weirdest.

He was no closer to finding the damn things when Derek arrived to take him to dinner. Derek, because he was adorable, had worked at the Hale house all day, then arrived to collect Stiles in his Camaro just so Stiles wouldn't have to arrive at the Hale house by himself.

Derek, because he was also an asshole, had cleaned up and arrived to pick up Stiles _wearing a leather jacket_.

“What is that?” Stiles demanded the moment he saw him.

“What's what?” Derek asked, looking down at himself.

Unbelievable. “You are actually trying to kill me.” There was nothing else for it. Stepping towards him, Stiles pushed Derek up against the wall of his office. “It's like it's your mission in life to drive me crazy.” Purposefully sinking to his knees, Stiles looked up at Derek and started working on his zipper. “I hate everything about what you choose to be.”

Pursing his lips together, Derek used a hand to touch the side of Stiles' face. “I hate you, too.”

So, really, it was entirely Derek's fault that they ended up being late to dinner.

Stiles popped a mint in his mouth as the Camaro hurtled along. “They're going to know, right?”

Derek's gaze never moved away from the road, but he was obviously paying attention. “Who's going to know what?”

“Your parents. Your family. Most of them are werewolves, right? They have the extra special sniffers and all that jazz. They're totally going to know what we were doing right before dinner.”

“Stiles, I'm pretty sure they already knew we were sleeping together.” That was true. There wasn't much you could hide from werewolves, at least not without magic. “We might get some teasing from Laura or my Uncle Peter, but that'll be the worst of-” Derek stop speaking, suddenly.

That was weird. “Derek?”

The car screeched to a halt, forcing Stiles to brace a hand against the dash. Derek was freaking Stiles the fuck out, tipping his head to one side, staring at nothing. “Is that...?”

A howl sounded in the distance, making both of them jump. Head snapping up, Derek gunned the engine and floored it. “Call your dad,” Derek ordered, “tell him there's something wrong at my parents' house.”

Not questioning him for a moment, Stiles fumbled his phone out. He was still waiting for dad to pick up when Derek cursed.

“Fuck!”

Stiles had never once heard Derek say that word. “What?” he asked, heart pounding as his brain conjured images of whatever terrible thing was happening. “What is it?”

Derek's eyes flashed gold. “Tell him it's a fire.”

_Shit._

Stiles did as instructed the moment Dad picked up and a few minutes later could smell the smoke himself. As the Hale house came into view, it felt like Stiles' heart fell into his stomach. He had no idea how it'd spread so quickly, but the entire, beautiful house was up in flames.

And Kate Argent was standing in front of it, laughing.

Derek was on her before the car even stopped moving. “What did you _do_?” he demanded, shoving her against a nearby tree, angrier than Stiles had ever seen him.

Stiles fumbled after him, slipping on the dirt, yanking his brass knuckles out of his jacket.

“Did you think I wouldn't know?” Kate asked Derek cruelly. “That I wouldn't know it was you? You took something from me,” she argued, grinning as she looked back towards the house, “and now I'm going to take _everything_ from you.”

“Yeah, that's enough monologuing from you,” Stiles announced and punched her in the face. There was no time to appreciate the fact that she dropped like a stone, Stiles instead immediately started flailing towards the house. “Less dealing with the bitch, more saving your family. Go go go!”

Derek took off at a sprint, kicking the front door open and stepping into the flames. It was going to hurt like a son of a bitch, but at least he'd heal. Stiles stood as close to the house as he could bear, wringing his hands together, trying to work out if there was anything he could do to help. He only had his brass knuckles, he didn't even have the dried flowers he kept in the back of the jeep. He started pacing along the front of the house, identifying the flowers planted around the edges. There were a couple of vaguely useful plants, but nothing-

Derek staggered back out of the house. Gasping, he bent over. His clothes were ruined and the burns looked horrifying but they were starting to heal already.

Stiles ran over to him. “What is it? Where are they?”

“I don't know how she-” Derek gasped again, gesturing to Kate's still form. “They're in the dining room. All the humans are unconscious. And there's mountain ash blocking every exit from the room.” _Fuck._ “I can't get them out. I can't get them _out_ ,” his voice broke at just about the same moment that Stiles' heart did.

Well, fuck _that_. “I can.”

Derek shook his head, coughing. “Stiles, you'll never-”

“I can do it,” Stiles told him, holding his gaze, “if you help me.”

Stiles would never be able to deal with this himself, even if he had all his usual magic tools at his disposal. This was far bigger than anything he'd had to deal with himself.

He'd always chosen plants because of his mom, they were what she preferred to work with and it was a way for him to feel connected to her. But technically, any living thing connected to magic would do. Stiles had never liked the idea of using an actual person but...they were out of time. They were out of options.

Using the preserve itself wouldn't work, as he'd need to stay in constant physical contact but also needed to get inside the house. And a strong, healthy werewolf? That was probably the best option he could ask for right now.

Facing the house, Stiles grabbed Derek's hand. “I'm going to use you for a power boost. And Derek?” he said seriously. “You are going to suffer. Even without the fire.” There was no time to prepare anything properly or even explain it fully. “It's going to be bad.”

Face grim, Derek nodded his understanding. “I trust you.”

Stiles swallowed. “No matter what happens, no matter how bad it gets, do not let go of my hand. If you get me to that room, I _will_ save your family. Deal?”

“Deal,” Derek said roughly.

Squeezing Derek's hand so the brass knuckles pressed deeper against his skin, Stiles closed his eyes and reached for all of Derek's power, all of Derek's strength and every part of the magic that made him a shifter.

It was uncontrolled, excruciating, even for Stiles. Beyond the worst pain he'd ever felt – but that absolutely couldn't be what he focused on right now. Derek made a choked noise next to him; Stiles forced himself not to look, feeling like he was burning up from the inside out, like his veins were about to burst out of his skin.

Belief was key. Belief was _everything_.

 _No lick of flame will cause me harm,_ he recited in his pounding head. _No lick of flame will cause me harm, no lick of flame will cause me harm, no lick of flame, lickofflamelickofflamelickofflame-_

The familiar sensation of a spell working snapped into place and Stiles gasped, forcing his eyes open. “Now,” he ordered, “take me to the room _now_.” He had no idea how long the spell would last, he could feel it resisting him; it was barely holding together even though it was only protecting him instead of both of them.

Taking Stiles' word that the job was done, Derek pulled him into the house. They didn't waste any time, running through the house with Derek leading the way. Stiles would be lying if he ever said that the whole experience wasn't freaky as shit – feeling the smoke and the heat but none of the pain – but later. He'd freak out about everything that was happening now later.

The Hale house may have been huge but it still didn't take particularly long to reach the right room.

“Here,” Derek said urgently, in a twisted voice that spoke to how much pain he was in. Stiles was still making it a point not to look at him. Choking on the smoke, he made sure to keep clinging on to Derek's hand as he fell to his knees.

His head was screaming at him, his vision flickering in and out woozily.

“Hurry!” someone yelled from inside the room. Visibility was poor what with smoke and fire and Stiles was finding it hard to even see where the mountain ash was. He felt for it with his magic instead and then with a flick of his hand-

People started barrelling out of the dining room.

“Carry the humans out!” Talia's voice yelled and Stiles was twisting, standing, when Derek collapsed.

Fuck. “Derek!” he yelled, even as he tried and failed himself to get Derek back up. “Someone help Derek!” There was too much noise, too much movement, but Derek was being helped and there was smoke, fire and Stiles couldn't stop coughing as he desperately tried to keep hold of Derek's hand.

Air. Sweet, blessed air as they stumbled out the front door. Stiles released his hand immediately, ending the spell. “On the ground,” he ordered, focusing on not losing his footing as they listened to him, carrying Derek a short distance away from the house before placing him on the grass.

Falling to his knees again, Stiles coughed, streaming eyes raking over Derek's burnt, ashy form. “How are the others?” he asked absently, waiting for Derek's healing to kick in. He could hear several people coughing, at least.

“Alive,” Talia's voice said from behind him. “Some will be scarred but...alive. Thank God.”

A man about Talia's age came to stand next to Derek's body. Not her husband, maybe her brother? “He's not healing.”

“Noticed that,” Stiles spat. “Take his pain.” Readjusting the brass knuckles on his left hand, Stiles leant over Derek's body. One side of his face was burnt so Stiles gently touched his shaking right hand to the other. “It's going to be okay,” he promised, because Stiles may not have had strong magic and his vision still kept blurring out, but right now his belief was enough to accomplish anything. It had to be. Closing his eyes, Stiles pressed his forehead against Derek's, punched his fist into the ground and _forced_ the preserve to help him.

_I give to you what there is of me, I give to you what there is of me, I give to you what there is-_

*

Waking up _sucked_.

It was made better by the fact that both Dad and Derek were sleeping uncomfortably in the chairs next to his hospital bed. Stiles drank the sight in for a while; Derek was _alive_ and _whole_ and everyone had survived. It'd been a goddamn miracle.

“Hey,” he said in a croaky voice, smiling when they both startled and rushed over to him. There was some explanation, though it was too much for Stiles to take it all in. Kate seemed to be in jail, everyone was okay and Stiles' stay in hospital boiled down to-

“Exhaustion. _Extreme_ magical exhaustion,” Dad told him. “From what Deaton said you accomplished the impossible.” His eyes were bright and his voice shaky. “While I still wish you wouldn't put yourself in harms way I...couldn't be prouder.” He squeezed Stiles' hand. “But, as a result...” Dad studied him grimly. “You're gonna be in recovery for a long time, kid.”

Slowly blinking, moving his gaze over to Derek who was staring down at him with what Stiles could only describe as adoration, Stiles tried to shrug. It didn't actually happen, but at least the intent was there. “Worth it,” he said hazily and then promptly passed out.

*

Stiles spent the next six weeks in Derek's bed. Sadly, he spent 95% of that time sleeping. He couldn't be all that regretful, though, because Derek's bed was still unbelievably comfortable.

Within the first week of recovery, he was cruelly dragged from slumber by a familiar voice. “Stiles, honey? It's Melissa. We're going to be moving you around while I show Derek how to make sure you don't get bed sores, okay?”

His eyes were still shut, but Stiles managed to smack his lips together. “A-OK with me. Bed sores are bad and we should,” he yawned, “defeat them.” He felt personally betrayed that his body wasn't up to doing finger guns.

After that, he'd also wake up at the strangest times to find Derek looming over him, bracing and carefully bending Stiles' legs at the knees to stop his leg muscles from completely atrophying. “I feel like this should be sexier than it is,” Stiles said, every single time.

The less said about Derek helping him wash, the better. At least he could piss by himself, although Derek had to help him get there. The only upside to this situation was that he was even too tired to be bored.

As the weeks passed, however, though he was still utterly drained just by eating or taking a dump, he did become more aware mentally. It didn't take him long to realise that, between them, the Hales had completely taken over his business. “I don't know how I feel about this,” he mumbled into Derek's perfect chest. Honestly, he was too tired to get particularly stressed out about work at the moment.

Derek rubbed a reassuring hand down his back. “Let them help you. It's the least you deserve.”

“Yeah, okay,” he slurred, meaning to ask how Derek's family were coping in the hotel while their house was being assessed, but fell asleep before it could happen.

It also didn't take long to discover that group visits were out, at least for the time being. He could cope with Derek being there, he didn't feel like he had to be 'on' or entertain him. He could just be Stiles and sleep for approximately ten billion hours. And having someone else there, occasionally, was manageable. But when Stiles' family – Dad, Melissa, Scott and Kira – all tried to visit at the same time, Stiles nearly had a breakdown. There was too much going on at once, he couldn't keep track of what anyone was saying, his brain was so _slow_ and he was frustrating himself as much as anything else.

He'd had no idea he was even showing any signs of distress until Derek rudely ordered everyone out. Stiles didn't even know what anyone said after that, just hid under the covers until Derek returned and dove beneath the covers too, wrapping his arms around him.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Stiles said, pained.

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“No, I should...I should be _better_. I should be better than this.”

Derek held him tighter still. “All you should be is what you need to be. It doesn't matter how long it takes. Fuck everyone and everything else, okay?”

Sniffing, Stiles let the tears he was holding back run down his face. “Okay.” He wiggled in place. “Listen to you and your potty mouth.”

Huffing out a laugh, Derek kissed the back of his neck. “No doubt your influence.”

*

“Dude, he is totally head over heels for you,” Scott said a few days later, sitting in a chair next to the bed. Derek was in the kitchen making Stiles waffles for lunch because why not?

Stiles eyed him. “You know he can hear every word you're saying, right?”

“You know you're not denying it right?” Scott shot back, so Stiles threw the 'get well soon' pack of Red Vines Scott had brought him right at his face.

“I'm happy for you,” Scott said quietly when he hugged him later, though he refused to give the Red Vines back.

It was a worthy sacrifice.

When those initial six weeks were over, Stiles finally felt up to taking a short road trip. He was exhausted from the whole process of showering, getting dressed and walking to and from the car, but it made Dad smile to see him out of the apartment and after Stiles fell asleep in the sun in his old back yard, he felt better than he had in ages.

The only downside of Derek's place was he had no yard of his own and the bed was only in the sun for a couple of hours a day. A few days later, however, a comfy chair appeared in front of the biggest window in the apartment, the one that faced the sun for most of the day. His plants - the plants that he used because of _mom_ \- had been placed by the open window.

Stiles' heart swelled three sizes and he pounced Derek the next time he came into the bedroom. It didn't last long and Stiles passed out afterwards, but he was a man on a mission as he finally gave Derek the orgasm he'd deserved for oh so long.

Derek went back to work more and more often, now that Stiles sat up most of the day, sitting in the sunlight in his new favourite chair. He had the occasional visitor – the Hales had started coming to see him, one by one – and he did a lot of reading, but he was well enough to start getting bored so got involved with Stilinski Investigations again. He still couldn't really go out and do anything, but he gave the Hales tips and advice, spoke to clients only he knew how to handle. More often than not, when Derek came home now Stiles would be typing away on his laptop or on the phone with paper spread out across the table in front of him.

“You sure you're up for this, kid?” Dad asked one afternoon, taking it all in.

“Yeah,” Stiles said. “I maybe can't do it physically yet, but it feels good to use my brain again. You know?”

Dad nodded and gave him the latest on Kate Argent's trial date. Kate was pleading insanity and the only theory they had was that she'd used magic to mask herself from everyone, werewolves included, while she'd placed the mountain ash. The Hales did remember a puff of smoke, which was likely when she'd thrown something into the room to knock the humans out so they couldn't break the mountain ash barrier.

Dad then ruined his mood even more by asking if Stiles had any idea what could possibly have happened to the pictures she'd claimed she was getting revenge for.

Looking away guiltily – he still didn't feel bad about it, but he'd always hated Dad's disapproval – Stiles' fingers clattered noisily over the keyboard. “Nope. Not a clue.”

“Uh huh,” Dad replied knowingly, then wisely said nothing else about it. What he did say was, “You were right, about Derek. He is good for you.” Stiles' fingers froze on the keyboard as he looked up at his dad. “That day, when he threw us all out? That's when I knew.”

“That he was an asshole?” Stiles joked, because he was still himself and _feelings_ could still be awkward for him when he wasn't talking to Derek.

“That he was putting you first,” Dad corrected. “That he didn't give a shit-”

“Dad!” Stiles gasped, over-dramatic.

“Do you mind?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips. “We're having a moment here.”

Stiles pressed his smiling lips together.

“He didn't care what I thought about him,” Dad continued, “all he cared about is that you were taken care of, that you got what you needed. As a parent...that's pretty much the dream. Although,” he conceded, “it's only a good thing if he's not an asshole all the time. What I'm saying, Stiles,” Dad finally got to his point, “is that I approve. He has my approval. And I know, I know,” he added quickly as Stiles was already opening his mouth to object, “I know it's an out-dated, patriarchal concept, believe me, you've made that very clear to me.” He studied Stiles with exasperation and fondness. “I like him, kid. And I like the two of you together.”

The tips of Derek's ears were practically red when he brought Dad his coffee thirty seconds later.

“He's right, you know,” Stiles told him later, when Dad had gone and Derek was folding laundry at the foot of the bed Stiles had moved to.

“That I'm an asshole?”

“Ha ha,” Stiles mocked, which honestly wasn't his best work. “You're awesome. And you've been amazing. And I honestly don't know how I would've got through all this without you. I mean, God, we'd been dating, what? Two weeks? When all of this happened? And you haven't hesitated, not once-”

“Well, no,” Derek interrupted like Stiles was being an idiot. “Of course I didn't. You said, before, that you knew. About us. That you were certain. Well,” he shrugged, “so am I.”

Stiles just stared at him and knew he was the luckiest fucking guy in the world.

“C'mere,” he ordered, patting the covers next to him. “Watching you pair socks is sexy and all, but there's some urgent cuddling in your future and it cannot be denied.”

An individual sock ended up going missing, of course, but the cuddling made the sacrifice more than worth it.

*

One particular day, when Stiles was actually feeling horny – it was a _miracle_ – it took no persuading at all to convince Derek to stay home. Stiles finally got to indulge in some of the orgasms he'd missed out on for at least the past eight weeks. Derek held him so tightly afterwards that Stiles thought Derek was going to start crying. As it turned out, he was the one with the occasional tear escaping from the corner of his eye. It wasn't just because he was with Derek, although that was no doubt significant. He was starting to feel _capable_ again.

Later, they were squashed up together on his awesome chair, coffee mugs in hand as they gazed out the window. Stiles had never gazed out a window in his _life_ and now here he was, happily doing so.

Life was weird as shit.

“Mom wanted to ask you something,” Derek murmured quietly.

“Mmm?” Stiles questioned, leaning against him.

“She wanted to know if, when you're feeling up to it, you'd like to be the Hale emissary.”

Startled, Stiles tried not to slosh his coffee as he also tried to turn and stare at Derek. “But...emissaries don't exist anymore.”

“I know.”

“They were a - tradition more than anything else.” Werewolves themselves didn't even really need to live in packs anymore, territory wasn't really claimed the way it had been in the past. That was part of the old culture, too.

“I also know that, too.” He sounded amused, the jerk.

“Hey, come on, this is a big deal,” Stiles argued, placing his cup on the table, then reaching for Derek's and doing the same. “I mean most of the stuff an emissary would do I do already. But it's a... _venerable_ position. Being asked to be emissary is a huge sign of respect. And a promise that you expect the emissary to work with you for the rest of their life-” He stopped, suddenly suspicious. Derek glanced conveniently away.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. “Was this definitely your mom's idea?”

“It was,” Derek promised, even as his face flushed. “After everything you did-”

“ _We_ did.” Stiles sure as hell wouldn't have been able to do any of it without him.

Nodding, Derek conceded the point. “It was her idea. But she...may have...asked my...opinion?”

There was no way he could stop the grin that was spreading across his face. “Whether you wanted me to tie myself to you for a lifetime of servitude?”

“I'll give you all the curly fries and pizza pockets you can eat,” Derek dead-panned and Stiles leaned towards him, laughing into a kiss.

“Deal,” he said fondly as the kiss came to an end, pressing his forehead against Derek's. “You know what I decided?” He'd had more than enough time to think this over.

“What's that?”

Stiles shrugged, pulling his head back a little and looking Derek in the eye. “I actually don't need to know if we are – werewolf bonded or whatever it is.” Which was saying something, considering he usually needed to know everything. “It kind of doesn't matter? Not that I don't care,” he rushed to add, “but I already liked you before we started dating, you apparently liked me, so I've decided all the awesomeness of this relationship comes purely from the two of us.”

Derek didn't seem bothered, but had clearly been holding onto this one for a while when he said, “So what I'm taking from this is that you _don't_ want to get werewolf married under a full moon in the middle of summer?”

Oh, he was either going to punish or thank Scott in creative new ways. “Well,” he began, hooking his arms over Derek's smug shoulders, “I wouldn't say _that_.”

~FINIS

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Kate has naked pictures of Derek and threatens to misuse them.


End file.
